Standing in the Mirror
by Storm-and-Faith
Summary: Oliver isn't happy with the unwanted attention Katie's getting from two other Quidditch Captains. Katie doesn't understand why Oliver would give up everything to protect her. Even Quidditch! Why can't Davies and Diggory just leave her alone?
1. Chapter 1

"Go out with me, Bell."

I rolled my eyes and turned around to the dark haired Ravenclaw behind me.

"I'd rather spoon my eyes out, Davies."

He grinned and leaned against the sixth floor corridor wall. I stood glaring at him, my arms crossed across of my chest, my hip jutting out.

"You know that's not true."

"What's not true? Is it that you're a boring sleaze? Because, I hate to break it to you, Davies, that's just as true as your team being shit at Quidditch."

I turned to the new voice. I sighed and leaned against the wall.

"Diggory, what are you doing here? You know that Katie fancies _me_."

I rolled my eyes.

"Katie doesn't fancy you, Davies. What you're mistaking as liking you is actually her fighting the urge to throw up at the sight of you."

"Well, she certainly doesn't fancy _you_, Diggory. I've met _goblins_ more charming than you," Davies said, stepping closer to Diggory.

"And I've met _gnomes_ smarter than _you_, Davies."

"Is that right?" Davies asked furiously, squaring up to the younger, fair haired Hufflepuff. Apparently, his intellect was a touchy subject. Diggory knew that, of course.

"Yeah, it is," Diggory stated, his eyes flashing and his jaw set.

"Oi!" I cut in, "Why the hell are you two fighting?" I asked incredulously, glaring at the two.

They both turned to me and grinned. "Rivalry," they both said, then turned back to each other.

"What's going on?" Another voice had been added to the mix. I looked down the corridor and groaned. What was with Quidditch Captains and being the bane of my life?

"Wood," both the Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff stated, glaring at the boy who was jogging towards them.

"What's all this about?" Oliver asked, glancing at the three of them.

"I was just asking Katie here, out to Hogsmeade when this rude bastard interrupted," Davies said, glaring at Diggory.

"Is that right?" he said, obviously humoured.

I glared at him. "It's not funny, Wood," I said to him, then turned to the other two. "Why can't you two just leave me alone? I have no interest in either of you – especially since the both of you act like complete idiots all the time."

Davies grinned, and Diggory had the grace to try to look ashamed.

"You're lying to yourself, Katie. One of these days, I'll have you."

Before I could blink, Oliver and Diggory had pounced, and Davies lay on the floor, clutching his stomach. He groaned.

"You better leave her alone, Davies," Oliver growled.

"Yeah, 'cause if you don't, I'll have to make it my personal duty to protect her," Diggory said suggestively. I shuddered.

Oliver punched Diggory in the stomach too.

"If _either_ of you come near my Chaser again, I'll make it _my_ personal duty to make _both_ of your lives hell."

"_Oliver!_" I exclaimed as he proceeded to kick Davies in the ribs when he'd muttered 'bastard' under his breath. "You just calm right down, mister. _I don't want a bodyguard_, so back off. All three of you, leave me alone."

I stormed off, ignoring Oliver's surprised cry of "Kates!" and half-running to the Gryffindor common room.

--

I didn't see Oliver for the rest of the night, though I was up late, sitting alone in the Gryffindor Common Room, reading _Quidditch Weekly_. I began to worry. Why wasn't he back yet? He'd been gone since after dinner, the twins had told me, and the last time I'd seen him was a few hours after dinner as I'd been walking back from the library and Davies and Diggory brought it upon themselves to annoy the hell out of me.

Maybe he was with a girl?

Well, that was laughable. Oliver had never dated in all the time I'd known him. He was far too obsessed with Quidditch to concern himself with girls.

At around three in the morning, a figure came sloping into the room. The light was dim, so I couldn't make out who it was. I shrugged to myself and went back to reading the supplement on Aiden Lynch.

"Kates?"

My head shot up. Oliver stood a few metres away from the couch I was sitting on, his hands in his pockets, and his head ducked.

"Oliver? Why are you back so late?" I asked, snapping the magazine shut and jumping up.

"Um …"

"It's after three am! You could have been caught!"

"No … I couldn't have. I was … at the Hospital Wing."

"What? Why?" I stepped closer to him. I guess I was right to have worried.

He took a step back from me and muttered, "Nothing."

I frowned. "What's wrong, Oliver? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

I walked towards him to peer into his face. What I saw made me step back again.

"Oliver, _what the hell happened?!_"

He flinched. "I got into a fight."

"If you tell me Davies and Diggory did that to, I'll hit you too," I growled.

"Then I won't tell you," he said uneasily.

"Oliver!"

"This is nothing," he said indicating his injuries. "They're still in hospital beds. Davies is still unconscious."

"You knocked Davies _out_?"

He nodded.

"Who blacked out your eye?"

"Davies. Hence he's unconscious."

"Why the _hell_ were you three fighting?"

"Don't concern yourself with it. It's over now."

I lifted my hand and brushed his hair away from his bruised face. There was a cut above his eyebrow, and his cheek was purple and grazed, along with his purple and blue eye. He looked terrible.

"'_This is nothing',_" I muttered disbelievingly to myself. "Does it hurt?" I asked him, placing a hand gingerly on his un-bruised cheek.

He shook his head slightly, his eyes connected with mine.

"Oh, Oliver," I said, pain in my voice. "Please tell me what happened." I hated the bruises on his face. I knew that, considering the fight was with Davies and Diggory, the bruises were my fault.

Oliver sighed. "Don't go near them again."

"I wasn't planning on it."

Oliver just nodded his head with a grim look on his discoloured features.

"What was said?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Oh, so you three fought over nothing, and now you're black and blue? I don't think so Wood. Spill," I said angrily.

I stared past the bruising into Oliver's beautiful brown eyes. He had hit them both to protect me and – though I was against the physical fighting (it was far too easy for all of them to get seriously hurt, what with all those Quidditch muscles) – I was grateful.

Oliver's hands pulled me against him and his arms surrounded me, his chin resting upon my head.

"I just don't want slime-balls like that talking to you. So I stopped at least one of them talking."

I half pulled away to look at him with question in my eyes.

He looked a little ashamed, but triumphant at the same time. "I broke Davies' jaw."

"_Oliver!_" I exclaimed, pulling away entirely.

"He deserved it," he muttered.

"Is Cedric okay?" I asked.

He looked at me in surprise at the use of Diggory's first name. I shrugged. "He will be now."

"What did you do to him?"

"I broke a couple of ribs."

"Ugh, Oliver," I said in disgust at his behaviour, looking away from his face.

"Well at least neither should bother you again."

"I wouldn't be so certain," I said, fixing him with a cold look.

"Well, if they do, I'll break their legs. That should deter them quite a bit."

I hit him on the shoulder and he flinched.

"I don't want you to go near either of them again. I can take care of myself, Oliver. We don't want you getting into trouble or hurt over a stupid fifth year!"

He frowned. "'Stupid'?"

I ignored him. "I don't want you to get hurt like this again because of me, Oliver. Alright?"

Oliver nodded reluctantly. "I just hate the thought of them eyeing you up like a piece of meat. It isn't right."

My expression softened at this. "If only there were more guys that thought that, Wood," I said, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "The world would be much safer place for women."

He pulled me into another hug and kissed my hair lightly. I didn't let me surprise show. "You'll be safe as long as I'm around, Kates."

"Hmm," I said, burying my face into his shirt. "I'm not too keen on your methods. But thank you, Oliver. You're the best captain ever."

He gave a soft laugh and kissed my cheek as we pulled away. I was glad of the dim light, or he'd have seen my reddening cheeks.

"You'd better get some sleep, Kates. Practice is at nine tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Just as well you're the best captain ever, or else I'd be adding to your bruises right now."

Oliver laughed, winked, and took off up the boys stairs, laughing the whole way.

I watched him leave, grinning, then made my way up the girls stairs to go to bed.

--

_Hello again. As you may have noticed, I've gone back to Katie/Oliver. I couldn't keep myself away from them for too long, eh? ____. Ah well. Hope you like this._

_Review please,____. _

_xx_


	2. Chapter 2

"Wood, what the _hell_ happened to you?" Angelina asked as she stepped onto the pitch in front of me, Alicia and Harry. Oliver stood near the centre of the pitch next to the ball trunk he'd collected from Madame Hooch's office.

Oliver looked even worse in daylight. I flinched at the sight of him.

He dragged one hand through his hair, making his stand on end, and he put his 'captain' face on.

"Never mind that. Where's the Weasley's?" he asked guardedly.

"McGonagall is talking to them about another round of detentions," Alicia answered, tying her long brown hair up in a ponytail.

"_Another_ one?" He asked incredulously.

"It's _Fred and George_, Oliver. Of _course_, 'another one'," Angelina said with a sigh, rolling her eyes and fixing her arm guard.

"Looking a bit pale, Potter. Have you eaten this morning?" Oliver asked of Harry.

"I'm fine, Captain," the third year answered, looking completely worn out.

"Good. We want the whole team on top form this season. No more infirmary trips. Clear?"

"Yes, Wood," Harry nodded, straightening his glasses just as Fred and George sauntered onto the pitch.

"Ah, dear Captain. Sorry my brother I were late –" began George.

"– McGonagall had to speak with us about our trick wands –" continued Fred.

"– She says that we can't sell them to students anymore –"

"– Apparently, it's causing anarchy in the classrooms –"

" – Like we're going to stop, now that she's told us _that – _Hey, Wood, what happened to your face?"

"Yeah, it looks like you've been smashed with a few Bludgers. Too bad we weren't there, eh? We could've hit them away, what with us being Beaters and everyth –"

"Will you two shut up?" Oliver snapped, kicking the trunk open with a thud. "Okay, down to practice, team! Harry, I want you to try some of those plays I drew up for you last week. Fred, he'll need to dodge some Bludgers, so go fetch one of the bats out of the trunk. Angelina, I want you to try and score against me today. I noticed at last practice that your left throw wasn't quite as strong as your right or centre, so we'll work on that. Alicia, Katie, I want you two to work on your speed across the pitch today. Angelina is much faster than you two, and you seem to be struggling to keep up with her. George, I only want one Bludger out today in case it comes too close to Angelina and I, so I want you to time Katie and Alicia, then I'll get you to swap with Fred later so that you can practice with Harry. That alright with everyone?"

The team nodded the affirmative.

"Alright, great. Let's get started, then!"

--

"Well done with those plays, Potter. Really excellent. You'll have no problem winning against Slytherin. Weasley's, well done. Some great bat work. Johnson, we'll need to practice that left shot again next practice. Don't worry, it's almost there. You're aiming better, but we need to work on power. Katie, great speed. You've really improved on your broom today. Spinnet, I think it's your broom holding you back. Cleensweeps just aren't what they used to be. George, could you put the Bludger back in the trunk? Potter, stop playing with the Snitch and put that back too. We're done for the day. Great practice, team!"

I couldn't believe he was still able to talk. I was so exhausted, I could hardly move, never mind forming a legible sentence in my brain. It was the 'cool down', as Oliver called it, that got all of us. It was pretty much the seven of us running around the perimeter of the pitch, and dropping to the floor every hundred metres and completing twenty crunches, before getting up and running the next hundred. It was killer. All the while, Oliver would run in front of us (quite a bit in front, true). I could never understand how he had 

enough puff in him to yell at us while crunching, without even sounding out of breath and in pain like the rest of us. He kept saying that the 'cool down' would be easier if we ate properly, like him.

Well, _sorry_ if we don't have abs of steel, Oliver. And _sorry_ we don't have the nutrition perfection _you_ have. We can't just live on oatmeal and red meat. When you're female, especially. I need the nutrition _chocolate_ gives me, thanks.

So, these 'cool down's are the main reason I am probably going to die young.

The seven of us made our way back to the changing rooms, aching and tired. Well, six of us. Oliver didn't seem fazed at all.

"Those cool downs do _anything_ but cool me down," Fred groaned as he collapsed on a bench in front of the lockers.

"I know," Alicia said, falling down beside him and resting her head on Fred's shoulder. "They're killer."

"They aren't that bad!" Oliver insisted, laughing, grabbing a towel and a change of clothes from his locker.

We all grumbled. He just laughed again, and headed to the showers. We all followed soon after.

--

We got back up to the castle just in time for lunch.

Just as I was helping myself to some shepherd's pie, someone sat down beside me. We all looked round to see Diggory, grinning, on the bench next to me.

I groaned and let my head fall to the table.

"What are you doing, Diggory?" Oliver asked scathingly.

"Sitting here, Wood. Why? Thinking of taking a swing at me again?" the Hufflepuff said with contempt.

"Yes, actually. Why? Thinking of _trying_ to take a swing at me again? I wouldn't advise it, going on what happened last time. You fell over, remember? If I were you, I'd just leave right now." Oliver answered, sounding bored.

"Oi," I said to both of them, "Stop it."

There was a moment's silence, then Diggory said, "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment, Katie? With_out _the bodyguard."

"Oh, _get over it_!" Oliver exclaimed. "I didn't even hit you that hard! You're such a _girl_, Diggory. How can you play Quidditch if you get hurt _that_ easily? You're ridiculous!" Oliver said, half-yelling.

I lifted my head to look at Diggory properly for the first time. He was still glaring at Oliver across the table. He looked even more battered than Oliver. His lip was split open and his eye was bruised and swollen alarmingly.

I burst out laughing. Both he and Oliver looked at me, confused.

"_He_ – He did _that_?! Oh my _God_, Diggory! What did you do? Run _into_ his fist?!" I practically screamed, fizzling into laugher again.

Diggory flushed, then left without another word.

"Katie, my dear, I think you embarrassed the poor fellow," George said, laughing a long with his twin, Alicia, Angelina and myself.

I glanced over to Oliver, still laughing a little. He still looked confused.

"Was that and insult to me or to him?"

I thought for a second. "I think I'll go for both, Ol'."

He pouted slightly. I just laughed harder.

"I told you they wouldn't be fazed by you hitting them. They'll try harder now," I said after I'd calmed down somewhat.

"Then I'll hit them harder."

"Oliver, in all the time I've known you, I've _never_ heard of you getting into a fight. What's happened over the past few days to make you so violent?"

Oliver ignored the question and went back to his lunch.

"You need to stop this, Ol'," I pressed gently. "You'll get expelled if you carry on this way."

He carried on ignoring me.

"You'll never get that cup if you're chucked out."

"As long as they're nowhere near you, I really don't care," he replied quietly, without looking up.

The rest of the team stopped laughing at one of Fred's jokes immediately to stare at Oliver with me.

"Did he really just say that?" Alicia asked, awed.

"Oliver, can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?" I asked, my eyebrows raised, my voice a higher pitch than normal.

"Uh ... yeah," he answered, still not looking at me, and stood up to follow me out of the door.

"Are you _insane_? I mean, _seriously,_ Oliver! Why the hell did you say that?" I asked in a furious whisper as he closed the doors behind us.

"I'm ... sorry?" he said, question in his voice.

"You have wanted that cup for _so long_, and this whole team works _so hard_ to get it for you, and you'll be willing to give that all up for a few cheap swings at Davies and Diggory?!"

"If that's what needs to be done, then yes. What's the big problem?" he replied calmly.

"'What's the big problem?'! _'What's the big problem?'_! I'll bloody well tell you, Wood! You've just said that you'd sacrifice everything that you've put in these past three years – all of the blood, all of the sweat, _and_ all of the tears! – You would give all that up?! Just to –" I took a breath and steadied myself. None of this made any sense. This wasn't the Oliver we all knew. "You'd give all that up, just to protect me from a couple of idiots?" I asked in a softer voice, looking up at him.

His eyes left mine. He took a breath and let it out again slowly. He didn't answer.

"Oliver?" I whispered, my eyes scanning his face. This whole thing was so confusing.

He ran a hand through his dark brown hair as his eyes roved across the Entrance Hall in thought.

"I'm not _important_, Oliver! You shouldn't _care!_" I exploded. None of this made sense to me, and I was so frustrated, I could scream. Oliver's eyes snapped to mine once more. He studied me for a moment, still saying nothing. I continued, "I'm just a _stupid_ fifth year! I'm completely hopeless at _everything_! I don't understand this, Wood! I'm a stupid fifth year who can't seem to look after herself properly, and needs other people to fight her battles for her! _I'm not important_. I'm just a _kid_, Oliver. Stupid, and irresponsible, and weak, and ridiculous! Why the _hell_ would you give up everything for _me_? Why the hell do you even _give_ a damn about me?! I –"

I was cut short in my monologue-rant by Oliver placing a hand on my cheek and directing my face to look up into his.

"You're important to _me_, Katie. And I care very much about you. No matter if you're a little stupid sometimes," he said with a grin, "nothing will change how much I care about you.

"I don't think you're irresponsible, or remotely childish. In fact, I think you're much more grown up than me ... and I'm _leaving_ this year." He paused for a second, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Honestly, Kates, I'd do pretty much anything to protect you and keep you safe. I never want to see you hurt."

I had tears in my eyes by the time he'd stopped talking.

"Have I upset you?" he asked in concern, ducking his head to look at me. "I'm sorry, Katie," he said, taking my hand and pulling me into a hug.

"Why would you give it all up for me, Oliver? All that you've worked for your whole _life?" _I asked softly, trying to stop the flow of tears that was threatening to fall. It was all just too difficult to understand. "In all the time I've known you, you've never let anything get in the way of Quidditch, and now –" my voice cracked, "and now you're ready to give it all away. You should only care about Quidditch, Oliver!"

"Wrong," he said abruptly.

I pulled away and wiped at the tears that had fallen. "The Oliver _I _know only cares about Quidditch."

"No he – no _I_ don't! The Oliver _you know_ is standing right here, in front of you, _telling _you you're wrong!"

He dragged his hands through his hair again, his eyes scanning the hall. His tanned face was flushed in frustration.

He sighed and looked at me again, held his hands up in a surrender position, and took off up the Grand Staircase, out of sight.

I wished desperately that the proverb 'out of sight, out of mind' was true. But unfortunately, I found that I was left in the Hall, staring after him in a kind of numb disbelief, thinking hard on what he'd said, before people started spilling out of the hall after finishing their lunch, reminding me to go and finish mine.

I made my way into the all, and sat down.

I tried to avoid all questions, and I gave absolutely no answers.

_Hi again. I'm hoping for a few more reviews this time, please? It'd make writing this more worthwhile. ___

_I'm glad some more Katie/Oliver stories have popped up in the past little while. It seems everybody's been too busy with their summer's to write. But it's kicking off again, and I'm glad. It's just what I need to keep my mind off of going back to school. :D_

_xx_


	3. Chapter 3

Oliver didn't arrive for dinner that evening. I sat through it, barely eating and watching the door.

I was worried. Again. Oliver rarely missed dinner. Even if he was ill and didn't want to eat, he'd always come down and sit with us in the hall. The only times I'd known him missing dinner was when he had Quidditch injuries. And no mishaps had occurred that morning.

I'm a worrier, and I was doing what I did best.

I am also an analyser, and I was analysing the hell out of our earlier conversation in the Entrance Hall. But I wasn't getting anywhere with that. I still had no idea what was wrong with Oliver Wood, and why the hell he had taken off like that this afternoon.

I looked around the Hall. I could see Diggory, sitting at the Hufflepuff table. He looked up just as my eyes slid over him. I looked back at him. He nodded to the Ravenclaw table behind me. I turned around and scoured the table, realising what he meant. Davies wasn't there. I looked at him again, worry more prominent on my face. Davies was probably the worst of the two for fighting. I wasn't looking forward to seeing Oliver tonight.

Diggory's expression was grim, and he just shook his head, and went back to talking to his friends.

I was surprised at that. I expected him to be grinning, happy that they were both going to get hurt.

Neither appeared throughout dinner.

I walked with Leanne, the blonde haired brown eyed girl who shared my dorm, back up to the tower. She asked me what was wrong, and if everything was alright. I lied. I wanted to know for sure if there was an issue before I started worrying others about it.

When we reached the common room I immediately stormed up the boy's stairs, ignoring Leanne's surprised call of 'Katie!'

I reached the landing for the Seventh year dormitory. I tapped the door.

Oliver answered quickly, as if he'd been sitting close.

"You weren't at dinner," I stated, suddenly feeling nervous and looking down at my shoes.

"I wasn't," he said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.

"Where were you?"

His silence made me look up. I realised it was a mistake almost immediately. My surprise that he hadn't received any new injuries was completely smothered by shock at myself. I'd never thought of Oliver as attractive before that moment – not that I had thought that he was _un_attractive, I just hadn't thought about Oliver like that before. But in that second's glance, Oliver freaking Wood looked sexier than anything on God's green Earth ... and it was _terrifying_.

I darted my eyes away, shocked at myself.

"Kates?" he asked, apprehensive. He'd obviously noticed my strange behaviour. I mentally slapped myself and forced my eyes back to his.

"Where were you?" I demanded, my voice sounding stronger than I felt.

Again, he stayed silent, looking at me with his smouldering eyes.

I hardened my expression. "Oliver Wood, tell me _now_."

"Well, you obviously _know_. I clearly don't need to tell you," he said, his eyes darkening another shade.

"You were with Davies?"

He just stared at me.

"Why are you _doing_ this? And what was all that about this afternoon?"

I was glad that the shock had been replaced by anger, despite the anger being initially false. It certainly wasn't false _now_, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"I don't want to talk about this," Oliver said plainly, reaching for the edge of the door to close it.

"Oliver, please," I said, almost all the anger disappearing.

His downcast eyes met mine for another mindboggling moment (on my part). "You won't understand, Katie. I barely understand it myself."

"And who are to decide that?" I said, anger flaring slightly.

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair in frustration for the second time that day.

"Please?" I said softly. I almost laughed at his growl.

"Fine! _Fine_," he snapped, storming into his room and leaving the door open for me. I stepped in tentatively. As soon as I was past the threshold, I smiled involuntarily. His room smelled of him. That amazing smell that I could never quite place the origin. I knew he didn't wear aftershave ... perhaps it was just Oliver.

The room looked so typically Oliver on one side, and, as if split down the middle, so typically Percy Weasley on the other. They are the only two Seventh year boys left, and they are polar opposites.

Posters of Quidditch teams lined Oliver's side, along with pictures of the team and his family. There were papers littering the floor beside his trunk, where he'd obviously been rifling through them before I'd knocked the door.

He sat down on his bed and patted the spot beside him. I sat down, ignoring my heart skipping out a little.

What is _wrong_ with me today?

"Why are you smiling?" he asked, slightly incredulous.

"No reason," I lied quickly, wiping the smile off of my face. "Now, tell me what this is about."

"You won't understand," he assured me. I shook my head, and gave a little smile.

"Try me."

He sighed and lay back, so that his head just reached the other side of the bed, and his feet were planted on the floor. A little section of his stomach was exposed as he stretched his arms up to cover his face.

"Oliver?" I asked apprehensively. He groaned, as if he'd just remembered I was there. "Did you think I'd leave if you just ... closed your eyes?"

He chuckled slightly, making his shirt ride up a little higher. I focussed my eyes on his hands.

"No. I hoped you'd just leave if I didn't talk for a while."

"No such luck, Ollie."

He dropped his hands and glared at me. "Please don't call me that."

"Oliver," I said sternly, crossing my arms in front of me, and turning properly to face him on the bed.

He sighed and sat up. He faced half-away from me, a frown crinkling on his brow-line.

"It's ..." He stopped and sighed, turning to look at me. "You're my chaser, alright? You're the youngest, apart from Harry, and that kid can sure as _hell _look after himself."

"So you're saying I'm unable to take care of myself?" I tried to muffle the anger I felt bubbling through my voice.

"No. No, Kates. See? I _told_ you that you wouldn't understand. I knew you'd react like this if I told you what –"

I held up my hand to halt his babble. I shuffled back towards the bottom of his bed, away from him.

"Katie –"

I held up my hand again.

"Let me –" The hand flew up. His hand caught it. "Let me explain myself before you stop talking to me, alright?" I glared at him. "It's not that I don't think you can look after yourself. It's that I _like_ looking after you. I can't get away with it with anyone else on the team. Not that I'd want to, really. Don't tell them, but," he said, then leaned closer to me, smirking, "you're my favourite."

I snatched my hand back from him and crossed my arms again, still glaring at him.

"Katie," he said, frowning again. "I just want to keep you safe. That's all. Is that so bad?"

"If keeping me safe means beating up people for me, then, yeah. Yeah, Oliver, it _is_ a bad thing!"

"But those people are a danger to you. Katie, a beautiful girl like you attracts the wrong type of attention. I don't want you hurt. Keeping you safe means everything to me."

He said I was _beautiful_.

I shook myself and focussed on what he had said.

"Don't be _ridiculous_!"

"It's true," he said softly.

I was lost for words. I just stared at him.

"You can hate me for all this, if you want. I'll underst –"

"I don't hate you," I mumbled, looking away from his rich brown eyes.

He reached up and brushed his hand across my cheek. I looked back at him.

"Good," he said, keeping his hand on my cheek.

"You think I'm beautiful?" I asked in a small voice.

His face broke into a grin. "I _know_ you're beautiful, Kates."

I leaned away from his hand and shook my head. "No, Oliver, I –"

"You are to me. And apparently Davies, Diggory, and a fair few others," he said, scowling slightly. "And I want to protect you from them."

"What about protection from _you_?" I asked, smirking.

He smirked too. "I'm sure the twins would take care of it."

"Do I _need_ protection from you?" asked mock-seriously.

He pretended to think about it for a second, then said "Maybe. If you were needing protection from Quidditch Nazis and dawn practices."

I laughed. "Hmm. I think I _will_ talk to the twins."

"Won't stop me," he said with a larger grin. "Nothing comes between me and Quidditch."

I rolled my eyes at him, smirking. "Sad thing is, _Ollie_ – I know that's true."

He winked at me and grinned some more.

The atmosphere had lifted somewhat from what it had been before. Thank Merlin.

"Well, I'd better go. I've got loads of homework to be getting though. And this'll be the only night I get to do it, no doubt. Considering you, the infamous Quidditch tyrant, will have us practicing every night this week." I looked to him for confirmation. He just flashed that dazzling smile and I smiled slightly back. "Yeah, I thought that. See you around, Oliver," I said standing up and making my way to the door. He got up and walked with me. He opened the door for me and bowed.

"Goodnight, fair Kathryn."

I rolled my eyes at him, but grinned none-the-less. I passed him and said "Night, Ol'," then made my way to my own dormitory.

_Hey, thanks a lot for all my reviews. But, y'know, I'd still like some more. :D_

_xx_


	4. Chapter 4

"Spinnet, we really need to think about getting you a new broom. The Cleensweep is past its best, even if it _is_ the eleventh model. Maybe a Nimbus? I'll see McGonagall in the morning for the Quidditch team funds to help you if you want. Weasley's, that was a close call for Potter today. I don't want to see slip-ups like that in the next game unless it's directed at the other team, alright? Johnson, that left shot has really improved. You really put some great effort in. You'll do us proud in the next match. Kates, your speed's improved a lot, and so have your back passes. You're getting better and better with every practice. I'm really proud of you. That's it, team. Hit the changing rooms!" Oliver was saying at the next night's practice.

His comment about me had made me blush, and I knew before I even looked up that the rest of the team had noticed.

Fortunately, the other five declined to comment, and Oliver blissfully had not been paying attention to my colouring.

We got back up to the tower, exhausted and clean from showers. The six of us (the team, excluding Harry, who had found his own friends) sat down by the fire. George with Alicia, Fred with Angelina, and Oliver, and me sitting a calculated distance away from him – I'd seen the looks I was getting from the third year girls in the corner.

"So Katie, how are your admirers faring now? Seen either of them since Wood embarrassed them?" Fred asked with a grin.

I shook my head. "I don't know, and I can honestly say, I really don't give a damn."

"They won't give up, you realise. Men always love a challenge. I should know – I'm one of them," George said, grinning.

"Are you sure about that?" Alicia said, grinning. He scowled.

"He's right, you know. And considering even getting near you in the hallways seems to be a challenge nowadays, due to Wood, they'll never stop trying," Fred laughed.

"Poor things. I _kind of_ feel sorry for them." I looked at Alicia incredulously, as did Oliver. The twins and Angelina grinned. "Well," she said defensively, then grinned, "Like they had a chance in the first place." She stood up, as did Angelina. The twins followed suit.

"Yeah, no guy has ever had a chance with you, Kat," Angelina added, grinning too.

"Not since you met Mr Wood here, anyway," Fred and George said in unison. Both winked, then followed the laughing Alicia and Angelina out of the portrait hole, leaving me and Oliver, stunned on the sofa.

A few moments of tense silence passed between us before I heard the soft murmur of Oliver's voice break the tension.

"That was ... interesting."

I glanced at him. He was massaging his temples.

"It's bullshit, right?" he asked softly, his massaging of his temples stopped, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, of course," I said.

He turned to look at me, his lopsided smile in place. "Well, that was awkward."

I forced a smile.

"Those four are going to get it at next practice. They'll get extra laps for that little stunt."

I laughed a little.

"So ..." I said after a pause, then said the first thing that came to mind. "When are we next practicing?"

I glanced at me with a smirk. "Did you finish that homework you mentioned last night?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes ..."

"Then expect it every night this week from six," he said with a lopsided smile, getting up from the couch. "After all, we only have a month 'til the match. We need to be ready. But the way you've been performing, you have nothing to worry about. Seriously, Kates, you're national standard at the moment."

I grinned up at him. "And you're world standard, Ol'."

He grinned that skewed smile again. "Night, Kates."

"Goodnight, valiant Oliver," I smirked.

He returned the smirk and then made his way up the boys' stairs.

Then I also got up and ran up the girls' stairs, ready to strangle my two supposedly faithful best friends.

--

Two days later, Thursday, Oliver asked us all to stay behind after practice for a discussion about the pending Quidditch season.

The six of us sat on the hard wooden benches of the tactics room, tired and soggy.

Oliver stood before us, just as soggy, nowhere near as tired. In fact, he looked invigorated.

His eyes too on a determined look as he gazed at us all. "This is our last chance – _my_ last chance – to win the Quidditch Cup," he said, pacing. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.

"Gryffindor haven't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world – injuries – the tournament getting called off last year ... But we also know we've got the _best-ruddy-team-in-the-school_," he said, punching a fist into his other hand as he said this. "We've got three superb Chasers," he said, looking at us with pride shining in his eyes. "We've got two unbeatable Beaters,"

"Stop it, Oliver. You're embarrassing us," Fred and George said, pretending to blush.

Oliver hid a smile. "And we've got a Seeker who has _never failed to win us a match_!" he continued. "And me," he said, as thought he'd forgotten.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," George said.

"Cracking Keeper," Fred agreed.

"The point is," he said, brushing off their compliments modestly, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing ..."

"Oliver, this year's our year," Fred said confidently.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" added Angelina

"Definitely," confirmed Harry.

Oliver grinned at all of us, and excused us from the pitch. "I'll be up in a bit. I need to finish up some plays first," he explained.

The team left. I stayed where I was. Oliver has turned his back to the room and was flicking his wand at the plays board, making little crosses, dots, lines and initials to appear on the drawing of the pitch.

I stood up and walked to stand behind him, regarding the play board.

"You're joking! I can't do _that_, Oliver. Fred'll break my arm!" I said, staring at him incredulously.

He looked up with a start. "I thought you left."

I smiled a little. "No, I'm still here."

"Why?" he asked, glancing to me then fixing his eyes on the board, moving the cross with my initials above it to the other side of the pitch, out of harm's way.

I ignored his question. "Ah, now, that's better. That'll save me some pain."

"Kates," he said, turning around to look at me, reminding me of his question.

I shrugged. "Your speech was good."

He gave a small smile.

"We'll do it, Oliver. This really is our year."

He smiled a little wider and brushed my cheek softly with his knuckles. "You'll all do me proud, no matter what."

I smiled back. "But win it or else?" I supplied. He grinned at me, then withdrew his hand.

"Something like that." I laughed. He looked back to the board. "D'you think we could pull this off at the Slytherin match?"

I looked at the board for a long moment, contemplating. "Hmm ... it's a little risky for Slytherin. If it goes wrong, we'll have a job of catching up with them. Maybe test it out on Ravenclaw? Two of their chasers for this year are pretty weak. It'll be easier to get back into the lead."

He nodded. "You're right. Too risky."

I smiled. "Well, I'm going to head up to the castle now. I've got an essay Flitwick gave us today to start. I'll have to spread it out to accommodate all these practices," I grinned.

Oliver grinned too. "I'm glad your priorities are straight," he laughed. "Thanks, Katie. See you up in the common room later."

"Bye, Ol'."

"Bye," he said, and I left the changing rooms.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Hey there. Here's the next chapter for those of you who reviewed the last chapter. Thank you. Reviews are appreciated._

_xx_

I flipped through the _Witch Weekly_ carelessly, not seeing the pages filled with magical celebrities and vanity charms and relationship quizzes.

I was worried again, as I sat in the Common Room, waiting.

Waiting.

Oliver hadn't returned from the Quidditch pitch. The clock was edging closer and closer to two-thirty in the morning, and still no sign.

What was worse – I knew Ravenclaw had the pitch booked after Gryffindor this evening.

I felt awful. I just wanted to know if he was alright – unhurt. I just ... I needed to see him, to know that he hadn't been hurt because of me ... _again_.

Why did he have to protect me like this? Davies and Diggory wouldn't try anything ... _real_. I wasn't in any physical danger. I could deal with a couple of desperate cases sniffing around me. What I _couldn't_ deal with was Oliver taking such an active role in keeping me safe, when there was no need was downright _alarming_.

I hadn't seen David since Oliver had broken his jaw ... I almost hoped it didn't hurt too much ... almost. His behaviour towards me was ridiculous. Both he and Diggory were pathetic.

I heard the portrait shut, and I stood up immediately.

"Ol'?"

"Kates," has my muffled reply. His voice sounded thick, as if he had a cold.

I walked straight over to him and took his chin firmly, but gently, and made him face the light so that I could assess the damage.

His nose had been broken. It had been reset (by Madame Pomfrey, undoubtedly) but there was still remnants of blood on his face, and bruising to add to his older, blacker ones.

"Oliver," I whispered, disapproval etched on my face.

"Leave it, Kates," he said softly, gazing at me, his eyes darting all over my face.

"You got into a fight again," I stated, dropping my hand from his face like it had burned me. He looked away. "Who?" Like I didn't already know.

He didn't answer.

I stared at him, helpless. It was so useless. "Oliver," I sobbed, tears collecting in my eyes at his stupidity.

His shocked eyes mat mine, and he immediately pulled me to him, wrapping his form around me. "Shhh," he soothed.

"Don't tell _me_ to shoosh, you _stupid, ridiculous_ ... –" I muffled myself by burying my face into his blood-spattered shirt.

I slapped his chest, over and over.

His hands stroked my back soothingly, holding me close for a moment until I'd stopped hitting his chest. I sagged in his arms, my little fit over.

He pulled back slightly and placed his hands either side of my face. He brushed my tears away with his thumbs and looked at me seriously. "Are you okay?"

I glared at him, more tears spilling from my eyes. "_No_."

He sighed and wiped the new tears away. "Don't cry, Kates." He pulled me back into the hug, cradling my head against him. "I _hate_ seeing you upset."

I snapped and shoved away from him. His face was unreadable as I stared up contemptuously at him. "And I hate seeing you _hurt!_ Yet over the past few weeks, you've fought _twice _because of me!"

He stayed silent at this. He pulled me towards him once again and placed a kiss on my forehead.

That was getting to be a habit.

"Please, Oliver," I pled. "_Please_ stop fighting."

He pulled away and looked at me for a long moment, a pained look on his face. Eventually, he shook his head. "It's the only way to keep them away from you."

"Then don't!" I yelled, shoving him hard on the chest. He didn't even flinch, or move at all. "_Don't_!" I shoved him again, frustrated by the lack of reaction. Tears splashed from my eyes again.

"Kates ..." he said, looking helpless.

"Stay away from _both_ of them, or I _swear _to god, Wood!" I was practically growling.

I knew I shouldn't be shouting at him – especially at three in the morning. I just couldn't help it.

I lowered my voice, just slightly. "It's not keeping them away from me, anyway. They're going to try harder, a soon as they find out a way to get round you.

"Tell me, Oliver. When you leave school at the end of the year, who's going to stop them _then_? Roger is a year younger than you, and Cedric, a year younger than him. They'll be left behind when you graduate."

He seemed to struggle for a moment, before saying, "They'll have left you alone by then." His certainty faltered near the end of the statement.

I just stared at him dubiously.

He stayed quiet.

"No more fighting," I stated bluntly.

He sighed, and looked down. "Okay, I'll make a deal." He looked up. "_I_ won't fight."

I absorbed that for a second, before hitting him in the chest again. "You _will not_ stand by and let them hit you?!" I asked incredulously.

"If that's what you want."

I just stared at him, shocked. My anger was completely sucked out of me.

"No, Oliver," I gasped, brushing his hair out of his damaged face. "No, that's not what I want. I want you all to be unhurt ... I don't want anybody to be hurting anyone."

He sighed, then hugged me again. "I'm sorry, Kates," he murmured into my hair.

"I'm sorry too."

"What for?" he asked, surprised.

"Shouting at you for trying to keep me safe."

He chuckled into my neck and I smiled.

I kissed his shoulder and pulled away.

He smiled at me, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his lightly tanned skin looking as if it was glowing in the fire light.

Why had I never noticed how _beautiful_ he was?

Even with all the bruises and grazes, Oliver was _astonishing_.

I had to fight with myself so that I wouldn't stare.

"No more fighting," I muttered, and without looking at him again, I ran up the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, Katie," George greeted as he and Fred sat down either side of me at the breakfast table the following morning.

"Morning," I said, speaking through a mouthful of toast.

"Such manners the lady has," Fred commented, grinning.

I swallowed the toast and scowled at them. They both laughed.

"So, late night talks with Wood going well?" George asked, still grinning.

I was surprised that they knew ... though I probably should have known that people would have been able to hear me shouting last night.

I looked down at my plate and didn't answer. Just then, Angelina and Alicia joined us, sitting across the table.

"Good morning," they said cheerily together.

"Hi," I replied, glad of a turn in the conversation that they would bring.

"Fred, did you finish that Herbology essay for Sprout?" Angelina asked.

Fred laughed. "Of course, Angel. I _always_ do my homework."

"No," George interjected. "No, you don't. You wait until I do _my_ homework. Hey, did anyone know that Fred is an expert at duplication charms?"

"Yes," his twin said, "So good, in fact, that George here, is one of my experiments when I was in the womb. Didn't he turn out well? I mean, I was very young ... inexperienced, so there're a few glitches. His nose is a little off centre, and he's a complete idiot ... but close enough, eh?" Fred grinned.

"Oh, very funny, Fred," George said sarcastically, and the rest of us laughed.

"What's so funny?" asked Oliver as he sat down next Angelina, across from Fred.

"Nothing," George said lightly. "More injuries, then? Who was it this time?"

"Oh, shut up," Oliver muttered, pouring himself a mug of coffee.

"That is some impressive bruising," George commented, leaning towards Oliver to get a better look.

"Davies broke his nose," I told them.

He looked at me as if I'd punched him.

The twins burst out laughing, and the girls gasped.

"He broke your _nose_?" Alicia asked, staring at Oliver.

"You need to be more careful, Wood," Angelina said, shaking her head.

"I'm fine," he said tersely.

A few minutes of silence were filled with the munching of the twins' cereal.

"Have you started the project for Hagrid yet?" Angelina asked Fred.

"Merlin, woman! Stop hounding me about homework!" Fred laughed.

"Well, if I don't, you won't do it!" Angelia defended.

"I _always_ do my homework."

"He always _steals_ his homework," George muttered.

"Oh, like you don't copy mine!" Alicia said, laughing.

"Well, that may be true, but that doesn't make it _right_, now, does it, Ali?" George countered.

I rolled my eyes at all four of them and glanced up at Oliver. I was shocked to see his brown eyes boring into my green. I looked at him in question. He just stared at me for a little while longer, and went back to his toast.

Odd.

That was the only word I had for Oliver Wood.

...

Except sexy.

--

"Hey, Katie, wait up!" someone called from behind me as I was making my way across the Entrance hall to the Grand staircase after classes.

I turned to the voice. Diggory.

I waited until he reached me. Common courtesy and all that.

"Hello," I said briskly, crossing my arms across my chest and looked at him expectantly.

"Hi," he said, flashing me a grin. "Um ... Katie, I wanted to apologise."

"Oh?" I asked, looking up to his amber eyes.

"Yeah, I ... err ... I really shouldn't have acted so childishly over the past few months. I'm really sorry for bothering you so much." He looked uncomfortable, and sorry. I did believe him. "But I ... I _really_ want to go out with you, Katie," he said, looking at me with sad eyes.

"_Why_?" I asked, shaking my head.

He looked surprised at the question. "Because ... well, you're pretty ... and you're funny ... and you're a really good Chaser," he said, grinning while he said the last part.

I blushed slightly. "It's a game to you and Davies."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "No it isn't," he said, surprised. "Maybe to Davies ..." he conceded. "Not to me." He sounded definite, and a little offended.

I shook my head. "It's because of Oliver, and the fact that he's in the way. It's the same with Quidditch – he's in the way of the Cup. This Quidditch rivalry is getting worse, and now you're expressing it through _me_."

He shook his head. "Maybe for Davies. And Wood's hardly in the _way_," he dismissed, then looked at me anxiously. "Err ... is he?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're not dating him or anything?"

My mouth dropped open. "_No_."

"Well," he said, cheered. "He definitely isn't in the way, then."

"Diggory," I sighed, my head beginning to ache. "I don't want to date _anyone_. _Neither_ of you."

"Well," he said, grinning. "I guess I'll have to change your mind, then."

"And how do you propose to do that?" I deadpanned.

He just grinned. "Tell Wood that he packs a good punch. He practically turned two of my ribs to dust. Bye, Katie," he said with cheer, and took off towards the Hufflepuff Common room.

"He'll take pride in that fact," I sighed to myself once he was gone, and began to make my way up the Grand Staircase.

--

"Alright, Katie?" Angelina asked as she and Alicia crossed the threshold of my dorm.

"Hi Ange, Ali," I said, burying my face in the duvet again.

"What's up?" Alicia asked. I felt the bed indent as they sat down.

"Nothing," I said, barely audible due to the duvet on my face.

I heard them both laugh. I groaned and buried my face further.

"What are you hiding from?" Angelina asked.

"No-one."

"That wasn't the question I asked, Katie."

I lifted my head and glared at the two smirking girls.

"Okay, Katie. _Who_ are you hiding from?" Alicia asked, smirking the whole while.

"No-one!"

"So, what's he done now?"

"Who?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, which Quidditch captain did he hospitalise this time?"

I covered my expression of shock quickly and glared again.

"Katie," Alicia said seriously, obviously changing tactics, and nudged Angelina so that she would look serious too. "We're your friends. Tell us why you're hiding."

"I'm _not _hiding anything!"

"Your face has been buried in that comforter for the past two hours," Angelina said. "Are you telling us that there's no motivation for that? That you're that ... _odd_?"

"_No. _I've had a headache," I covered quickly.

"Katie," Alicia said reprovingly. "You're a witch. Are you _now_ telling us that you're so dim that you forgot the charm Flitwick taught us in second year for getting rid of headaches?"

I stared at her for a moment, sensing defeat, then groaned loudly, letting my head fall back into the comforter.

"So, what did Oliver do?" Angelina asked, smirking.

I groaned loudly again, and pulled the duvet around my head.

"Talk," Alicia ordered.

I lifted my head up and glared, before sighing, resigning myself to the fact that they would find out eventually anyway.

"I told him that fighting them would only make them try harder."

"What happened?"

"Diggory caught me on my way back from the Owlery earlier," I said, sighing.

"What did he say?" Alicia asked.

"He said that he would make me like him, somehow. To be honest, it's a hopeless case, and I think deep down, he knows it. Davies too. But they're not ready for giving up yet, which just makes my life difficult."

"It's not _that_ bad, Katie. It could be way worse," Angelia said gently.

I glared at her. "_How_? Add Flint into the mix? That's about the only way it could be any worse than this is."

"Don't worry, though. It seems that I've attracted _his_ attention," Alicia said, a shudder running up her spine as she said it.

"Don't expect sympathy from me. I have two."

"Three," Angelina muttered.

"You're three _so_ don't add up to Flint! He's _way_ worse!" Alicia rebutted.

"Three?" I asked, panicked.

"Well, there's another boy you forgot, isn't there, Kates?"

"Is there?" I asked, confused. I had no idea what they meant.

"You're so thick, sometimes," Angelina said, rolling her eyes.

"But anyway, Katie. It isn't that bad. It's not like it's not sort of nice that they're all fighting over you," Alicia said, as if she wished for it.

This sidetracked me from Angelina's statement, so I didn't pass comment, though I didn't forget it. "Why would I want people to fight over me? People get _hurt_ in fights! Why would _anyone_ want that?" I asked, blown away.

"Because they're showing how much they care about you, Kates. They want you so much that they're willing to get a few broken bones, just for you to be their girlfriend. Some girls would be really flattered."

"Yeah, some would. Though those girls tend to want the attention that that brings, and also they just don't care if people get hurt. I'm not like that. I don't want the attention, and it's just plain _stupid_ to get hurt over a girl," I said, not caring if I was offending her.

Alicia just rolled her eyes, and Angelina sighed. "They're not looking like they're going to stop anytime soon, Kates, so you'll just have to deal with it."

I snorted slightly.

"Well, I have homework to get done before practice," Angelina announced.

"Yeah, me too," Alicia said. "See you later, Katie." And with that, they both left my dorm.

After they shut the door, I growled and buried my head in the duvet once again.

This just wasn't good.

Not at _all._


	7. Chapter 7

I stared at the reflection of myself in the mirror of my dresser that afternoon in mid October. I looked just like I did every other day. My (formally blonde) dark hair curled past my shoulders in a curtain, my dull green eyes stared into dull green eyes, made more prominent by the dark circles beneath them. My old jeans fitted comfortably and my warm, dark blue jumper hung loosely around me. I just looked as I had since I was eleven. Sure, I was a little taller, and I had dyed my hair the year previous, but the key aspects were the same ... I just hadn't changed as much as other people seemed to have over the years at Hogwarts.

But if that were the case ... if I hadn't changed ... I just couldn't understand why two Quidditch Captains would, both highly thought of in the female population of the school, ask me to go to the Hogsmeade weekend at Hallowe'en with them about a million times today?

I looked closer at myself, dull looking into dull. I felt as if I was in the mirror, looking out, trying to be objective, as a mirror always was. I reflected truth. What was in front of me was reflected, unchanged, back.

I couldn't be as objective as a mirror. I didn't see one thing worth reflecting.

And yet, throughout the day, the two of them sought me out, walking me to classes, and asking me time and time again to go to Hogsmeade with them.

I sighed and dragged a hand through my hair and glared at the girl in front of me.

It just didn't make sense. Perhaps they were blind? Though I did see a few flaws in that theory: a Chaser and a Seeker just couldn't be blind. Unless they had some super sense for the Quaffle and the Snitch ... not to mention the Bludgers ... and the players.

I sighed again and turned my back to the mirror. There was no point in looking at myself any longer. It was just making my awful day worse.

_Knock, knock_. Someone had tapped my dorm door.

"Come in," I called, turning back around to the mirror and began to brush my hair.

The door cracked open to reveal Lee Jordan, the twins' best friend at Hogwarts. He smiled his blindingly white grin. I looked at him in surprise, ceasing brushing my hair mid-stroke. I stared at him in the mirror.

"Uh ... how did you get up here?" I asked, the surprise showing in my voice. "Sorry. Hello," I added, realising that my first greeting was quite rude.

He half smirked and said, "Being friends with the twins has its perks ... though probably about double the downfalls."

I gave a small smile. "Anything I can help you with?" I asked, resuming brushing.

"Um ... yeah. Yeah, there is. I was wondering, well ... _hoping_ ... that, err ... that you might fancy coming to Hogsmeade with me next Hallowe'en?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

My brush clattered onto the dressing table. "You're _kidding _ me," I whispered to myself as I leant my elbows on the table in front of me and buried my face in my hands. I eventually looked up at the nervous Lee reflected in the mirror. "Lee..."

"It's alright if you don't want to," he said hastily, stumbling over his words. "That's fine. I just thought that maybe ... but that's fine. Eh ... I'll see you later, Katie," He said quickly, his chocolate complexion tinting rose. He darted for the door.

"Lee, wait!" I yelled in alarm at his reaction. He stopped and turned to look at me. "I'm really sorry."

He flashed me another grin, not quite as bright without his nervousness, or hope. "No worries, Katie." And with that, he left.

I groaned and let my head fall into my crossed arms on the desk.

This was ridiculous. Three. Angelina and Alicia were right. Though I certainly wasn't expecting _Lee _to be the third. I'd always seen him as the leggy blonde type. Something I was not.

I groaned again and got up, avoiding dull green in the mirror. There was homework to be done before practice tonight.

I glanced out of the window as I retrieved my Ancient Runes textbook from my bag. It was pouring ... no, that was an understatement. The rain looked as if it were falling horizontally. Practice would be impossible, but knowing Oliver, we'll be out in it anyway. He always had a thing for preparations for games in all conditions, no matter how brutal, because 'the day of the match might have to be played in the same conditions'.

I agreed with him ... but that didn't lessen the risk of the whole team contracting influenza.

I sighed and lay on my stomach on my bed, cracking the book open, stretching my parchment out and inking my quill.

--

"OLIVER!"

"What?!" he screamed back, over the howling winds and hammering rain, his broom veering off to the left a bit as he fought against the raging rainstorm.

"THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!" My freezing fingers were clinging to my broom for dear life, my soaking hair whipping around me in knotted ropes.

"A LITTLE WHILE LONGER!"

Just then, Angelina, broom fighting against the wind also, came hurtling towards me. She tossed me the Quaffle that was carried by the wind five feet to me right. I raced after it, then sped back towards Oliver.

"IF I MAKE THIS SHOT, WE'RE ALL GOING INSIDE!"

Oliver's grin turned into a grimace as the rain pelted his face. "YOU'RE ON!"

He obviously didn't expect me to score ...

--

I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself and shivered again.

"You okay?" Oliver asked from his seat beside me on the sofa of the Gryffindor Common room.

I glared at him in response.

He smiled lopsidedly at me. "You sure you don't want to go to the infirmary?"

I nodded, glaring into the fire that seemed to be giving out no heat.

I shivered so violently, my teeth chattered for a moment. I heard Oliver sigh.

"Kates, come here," he said. I glanced over at him to see him looking at me with his arms outstretched. I just stared at him. He sighed again, and shuffled over until he was right next to me, and wrapped his arms around me.

I was shocked that he could be so considerate.

"I'm sorry, Kates. I shouldn't have made the team practice in that weather. I'm surprised it's only you who has flu symptoms," he said softly, gently rubbing his hands up and down my blanket-clad back.

I smiled and leant my head against his warm chest.

I instantly felt just a fraction warmer.

"So, Lee Jordan asked you out, huh?" he asked lightly. I'd just gotten comfortable – trust Oliver to make it uncomfortable.

"How..?"

"The twins told me," he answered, stroking my side.

"Oh."

"You get a lot of attention, don't you?" he continued in the same light tone. I could tell he was smiling without looking up.

"_Unwanted_ attention," I muttered, my voice quiet.

"Well, at least Jordan isn't as bad as Davies and Diggory," he said.

"I wouldn't date him any more readily than I would them, though."

Oliver didn't speak for a second, then he pulled back slightly from the hug and said "If you had to choose, which one _would_ you date?"

I laughed. "I wouldn't."

"But if you _had_ to choose," he persisted.

"In what circumstance would I _have_ to choose?"

"Humour me," he said, an eyebrow quirked.

I rolled my eyes. "If I had to choose?" I thought for a moment. "Hmm ... well, Lee's too much of a brother-y type for me to date. So he's out. Davies ... he's a complete pig. But he's quite considerate, I've heard, when he's dating ... Diggory's the same. I would say Diggory wasn't so chauvinistic. I'm sick of Davies and his holier-than-thou attitude towards women, like we're second class. So ... I think, _probably_ Diggory."

"_Diggory_?" he asked, a little incredulously.

"The lesser of two evils," I shrugged.

He pulled me back into the hug and placed his chin atop my head.

"Promise me something?"

"Hmm?"

"No matter how much they try and trick you into dating them ... please don't. I don't think I'd be able to cope," he said in a whisper.

I pulled away slightly to look at him quizzically. "You're joking, right? I don't even want to _look_ at them, never mind _date _one of them!"

A small smile appeared on his face. "Good," he nodded, pulling me back into the hug.

I'd warmed up considerably, and I was now around normal temperature. But being embraced by Oliver like this felt too good, and I didn't want to move.

"Are you okay now? You've stopped shivering," he said softly into him hair. I nodded, and reluctantly started to pull away. "You'd best get some sleep, then, Kates. You'll feel fine in the morning if you get a good eight hours. But if you don't, come find me before practice is due to start, and we'll cancel."

I stared at him. "_Cancel_?"

He nodded innocently.

"You're going to cancel practice if I'm ill tomorrow?"

He nodded again.

"Oliver, you _never_ cancel practice. Remember when you made Fred fly when he broke his arm? He couldn't even hold his bat!"

"Well, I'm going to tomorrow. See you, Kates," he said, standing up and making his way up the boys' stairs.

I closed my dropped jaw, then got up myself and run up the stairs to go to bed.

--

_There you go. Sorry it took so long. :) x_


	8. Chapter 8

"He said he'd _cancel practice_?" Alicia asked in shock, her mascara wand making little black smudges above her left eye as she stared at me, rather than what she was doing in the mirror.

I nodded.

"Wow," she said quietly, erasing the smudges with her finger.

I sat on my bed. I had gotten ready early, so I was waiting for the girls to finish before we all went down to breakfast.

"He also apologised for making us practice yesterday."

"He _apologised_?!" Angelina asked through a mouthful of toothpaste, her toothbrush still sticking out of her mouth.

I nodded again.

"Wow," she said, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

"Well, that makes it official, Katie," Alicia said, fixing the clasp in her hair.

"What?" I asked, confused.

Angelina smirked at me before going to spit out the froth in her mouth.

"_What_?" I asked again, a little angry with the lack of response.

"Isn't it obvious? Oliver has never cancelled practice for any of us before," Alicia said.

"So?" I asked.

"Katie, you are so_ thick_," Angelina laughed as she returned from the bathroom and picked up her bag.

I just glared at her.

"Can't you ever see things that are right in front of you? It would make our jobs a lot easier, you know," she said, indicating herself and Alicia.

"And what job's that?" I asked tersely.

"We're your _friends_, Katie."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked snippily.

They both rolled their eyes. "C'mon. We'll be late for class if we don't go now."

I huffed a little, but picked up my bag anyway. It was too early in the morning to bother myself with arguing. It just _didn't happen_.

We were joined by the twins in the Common Room, each ignoring me in favour of their favourite Chasers. Fred glued himself to Angelina's side, and George kissed Alicia's knuckles in greeting. It was sort of sweet. If I wasn't being ignored, that is. I was used to it, though. It had been happening every morning I was with the girls all year.

"Katie! I didn't see you there!" Fred hollered at me ten minutes later. "My, doesn't she look lovely this morning, brother?"

George didn't answer. He was still too busy talking to Alicia, and still hadn't noticed me. Fred kicked him.

"_Ow_! What was _that_ for?" George asked, rubbing his shin.

"We forgot Katie again, George."

"_Again._" I emphasised.

"Oh! You look absolutely _ravishing_ today, Katie. I just don't know how you manage it!"

I rolled my eyes at them both as the girls giggled at them. Every _bleeding_ morning...

"Are you both finished? I'd like to get some breakfast some time today."

"Ah, certainly Katie. We shall escort you." And with that, they both lifted me by the waist and carted me off, the girls trailing behind, giggling.

--

"Put me _down_!"

"Geez, Kates. Someone's cranky this morning," Fred grinned as he and George _finally _set me down at the top of the last flight of stairs before the Entrance Hall.

"No bloody wonder," I muttered as I brushed myself off needlessly.

"Well, my ladies," George said grandly, grinning at my previous comment. "Fred and I must take our leave."

"Aren't you going to breakfast?" Angelina asked.

They both shook their heads, identical smiles of regret on their faces. "McGonagall called for us. It seems that she appreciated our prank on Flint just as much as he did," Fred told us.

"Ah, don't worry, brother. One day we'll be envied for our genius. But until then ..." George said, and bowed to us in turn. Then he and Fred took off towards McGonagall's office, laughing.

"Mental," I muttered as I turned to Angelina and Alicia, who were smiling. We began walking towards the stairs, the girls still smiling, and me shaking my head.

Just as I stepped onto the first stair, someone called my name from down the corridor. I didn't need to look around to know who it was.

"Katie!"

I sighed and stopped. The girls looked at me in question. "I'll meet you in the Hall, guys."

They stared at me, uncomprehending.

"Someone wants a word," I said. They looked at me uncertainly, but carried on anyway.

I turned to see Davies standing next to one of the suits of armour that dotted the corridor.

"Hi Katie," he said, walking over to me as soon as the girls were out of sight.

I glared up into his dark blue eyes. "Davies."

"I want to apologise."

"Oh, what a surprise."

He ignored me. "I'm sorry. I've been acting stupidly towards you, and I know only too well that it's not getting me anywhere. I don't want you to hate me, Katie. I think that once you see past all this ... I think that you will like me. I'll be good to you, Katie. I know how to treat you right. I'm sick of having to compete against Diggory and Wood. It's bringing out all of my usually very minor bad qualities."

"Am I supposed to believe that?"

"I'm hoping you will. Honestly, Katie. I'm not a bad guy." He looked at me, sincerity in his eyes. Whether false or otherwise, I still didn't want to accept it.

"Davies, I want to go to breakfast. I'm hungry, and my brain doesn't work right without coffee. So, if you don't mind..?"

He smiled his perfect smile and cocked his head slightly. "I'll take care you, Katie. And one way or another, you'll see that." And with that, he brushed past me, and trotted down the stairs and into the Hall.

Stupid, clever, arsehole-y, romantic, irritatingly pretty Ravenclaw.

I sighed and followed him to breakfast to tell Oliver I was okay for practice.

--

I fell backwards onto my bed, exhausted.

Practice was tough, as usual. It only rained a little, so Oliver pushed us to make up for the fiasco of a practice yesterday. He finally let us leave after three hours.

He had made comments at the end of practice, as he always did – his worries, criticisms and complements. My comment had obviously turned into a running joke with Oliver. He's said one word, his whole face breaking into a grin, "National."

"World," I had said back, nodding to him. The rest of the team had looked between us, confused. Both Oliver and I ignored them.

Our little inside joke.

Our friendship had changed over the years. We had gotten better and better friends, and closer and closer. He protected me like I was his little sister, but he never treated me like I was family. He always treated me ... well ... right. He always knew what to say. He was just ... perfect, really.

How I felt about him had never changed, however. I'd always loved Oliver – as a friend, of course – from the moment I met him. I had always been a fairly good judge of character, and I had always thought Oliver had a very good one.

The only thing that had changed how I felt about Oliver had occurred very recently – when I realised how handsome he'd become. Not that it had majorly affected how I felt about him. I still loved him, but I was more ... I don't know... nervous around him, for lack of a better word. He made me... edgier. Like plain old me shouldn't be talking to glittering him.

But of course, Oliver's character had gone unchanged while his exterior had changed to be just as beautiful as his inside.

I wondered why no-one else had noticed his changes. Perhaps I was just blind to it before? Maybe he'd always looked like that, and I'd never cared to notice.

Then why notice now?

I sighed and dragged myself into an upright position. Perhaps I was just so interested in people's personalities that I failed to notice people's looks?

No, that couldn't be right. I did. I'd noticed Davies and Diggory, and how pretty they were.

Perhaps it was the reverse for them? Maybe I was blinded by the obvious, and couldn't see past that, to their true characters.

This was food for thought. But I was too tired to look into it further. My head was beginning to hurt, and I wanted to sleep.

As I settled back down, I sighed and stared at the blank canopy above me.

And all I could think as I drifted off was...

What if I was wrong about them?

--

_xx_


	9. Chapter 9

It had been an odd day.

Everything had begun normally, as most odd days do. I woke up at something past six, and got ready for classes. I went down for breakfast with Alicia and Angelina, and was ignored by the twins. We met up with Oliver in the Great Hall, and I sat next to him while we all drank coffee and ate toast. Alicia and I left for Divination, while the Angelina and the twins left for Care of Magical Creatures, and Oliver trudged to Potions.

It was at lunchtime, when Alicia, Angelina and I were making our way to the Great Hall from Transfiguration that things began to get weird...

"Shut _up_, Ange!" Alicia exclaimed, pushing Angelina slightly.

"Just admit that you like George, Ali. Katie and I both know you do. Where's the harm?"

"Because I _don't_. Why don't _you_ admit that you like _Fred_, then?"

"Because I don't!"

I rolled my eyes at them both.

"Aaaargh!" Alicia yelled, pushing her friend again and stomping away. Angelina looked at me as if she hadn't done anything.

Alicia had just about reached the end of the corridor, when Marcus Flint rounded the corner and stepped right in front of her.

"Ah, Spinnet. The prettiest of the Gryffindor Chasers."

"Urgh!" she exclaimed in disgusted surprise, stepping back from him.

Angelina and I looked at each other before hurrying to flank our friend.

"Is there something you want, Flint?" I asked scathingly.

"You could say that," he said, flashing his yellowed teeth at Alicia.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered.

"Have you brushed your teeth today, Flint? I think I'm about to die from the morning breath," Angelina said, fanning herself.

His eyes flashed to her, but he said nothing.

"Are you planning on speaking? Or are we confusing you with too many words?" I asked.

"Ah, Bell. The superiority you seem to think you have over me is really quite endearing."

"Flobberworms have superiority over _ you_, Flint. You are the lowest form of pond life. And we are the Quidditch-playing fish that Lord it over the rest of this pond," I said, indicating to the rest of the school. "So why don't you crawl back under that rock, hmm? That's how you Slytherins survive, right? While we Gryffindors bask in the glory of sunlight."

"Is that why the Quidditch Cup has been in Professor Snape's office for years, ladies?" he sneered.

"You've won by cheating and default, Flint. If it's a question of skill at the game, we've won it ten times over," Angelina said cuttingly. "Wood is a million times the Captain that you are. You bully and suck up to the likes of the Malfoy family. We have no respect for you."

"I wasn't looking for a fight, or respect. I wanted to talk to Spinnet alone for a moment, then I'll be on my way."

"You think we'll leave her alone with you?" I asked incredulously. "We can't trust you with one of our own, Flint. You're sneaky and pathetic. You'll do anything to weasel out of anything. Are you going to try and break her arm or something so that we'll have to forfeit the first game of the season?"

"No, I'm not. You have my word."

"Like that counts for anything. No chance, Flint."

"You can ask me what you like, but the girls are staying," Alicia said, glaring at Flint with vigour.

"Fine. I was going to ask whether you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me," he said in his greasy voice that he must have thought was sexy. Then he dove for her, as if to kiss her. She deftly swerved out of the way.

"I think the answer's obvious," Angelina said over Alicia's fake (or not so fake) retching.

"I don't see how I'm any worse than the ginger idiot you spend all of your time with."

Alicia immediately stopped her retching and glared at him, fury in her eyes.

"He's a Weasley. Have you seen how they live? It's practically incestuous! He –"

Flint was cut off my Alicia's palm connecting sharply with his cheek. She then pushed his shocked form out of the way and hurried off, yelling over her shoulder at us, "Move!"

We ran after her.

--

Alicia sat in shock. Angelina and I sat in shock beside her. Though we had a better understanding of it all than she seemed to have.

"What happened to you three?" Fred asked. "I would say it looked like you'd seen a ghost, but, well ..." he said, just as Nearly Headless Nick and The Grey Lady floated past us.

"Alicia?" George asked, ducking his head, trying to catch her eye. She looked up at him. "What's wrong, love?"

"I feel sick," she muttered.

"We had a run in with Flint," Angelina said. "He tried to kiss Alicia, and..."

"She slapped him," I finished, cutting out the mention of George and his family.

"He did what?" George asked calmly, though I saw that Fred placed a hand on his arm as if to hold him back.

"She did what?" Fred laughed, trying to cover for his twin who was staring at Alicia for conformation, his eyes ferocious.

"Can we talk about something else?" Alicia asked, not looking at any of us.

George carried on staring at her for a moment, before grabbing his bag and rushing out of the Great Hall without touching any food.

Fred looked at us apologetically, before running after his brother.

There was a few moments silence between the three of us, before Alicia let out a sob and fled from the hall too.

Angelina looked at me and said a simple, "Bloody hell."

I let out a humourless laugh. "I think Alicia has had a hard-hitting realisation."

Angelina hummed in agreement. "I think George has, too."

I nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

--

We found Alicia in our dorm once our classes had finished. Her eyes were red, and her mascara had run. She was face down on her bed, her pillow over her head.

Angelina and I sat on the bed either side of her. She sniffed.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" Angelina said, rubbing her back.

"Not great," she said, muffled by her duvet.

I patted her back. "You realise what happened, right?"

She lifted her head up slightly and glared at me. "Of course I do. I reacted to what Flint said about George, and I should have listened to you two from the start-out." She then buried her head again.

"Yes, you should have," Angelina said unhelpfully.

"Have you seen him since lunchtime?" I asked.

"No. Why?" she asked, looking up at Angelina and I in turn.

"Well..." I hesitated before looking to Angelina for help.

"Let's just say he took a leaf out of Oliver's stupidity book," she supplied.

"What?" she asked, sitting up.

"Flint is currently in the hospital wing, Alicia."

"Why?"

"Because ..."

"Because George put him there, with two broken ribs and a hell of a shiner," I told her.

She looked at us in shock.

"He's in the Common Room. Oliver's sorting him out."

"Sorting him out?" she squeaked. "What do you mean? Is he hurt?"

"He refused to go to the hospital wing," Angelina said, delicately avoiding Alicia's question.

At Angelina's answer, Alicia flew off of her bed. She hurried to the door before stopping, turning back, wiping her face free of mascara in the mirror, then running to the door. Angelina and I followed her, fighting smirks.

When we neared the bottom of the stairs, Alicia was standing on the bottom step with her back against the wall.

"Alicia, what are you –?"

Alicia cut her off by emitting a harsh shushing noise and pulling us both against the wall beside her.

"You're an idiot. You know that, right?" Oliver was saying.

"I don't think you're in any place to judge me, Oliver."

"I didn't say I wasn't an idiot too."

"Both of you are idiots," Fred said.

Angelina smirked. "Too right," she whispered. We both glared at her.

"Flint will get back at you," Oliver continued. "He won't let this lie."

"I know," George said simply.

"Was he wearing a ring?"

"How should I know?" George asked incredulously. "I was too preoccupied with trying to tear his face off!"

"Well, I would have thought you would have noticed as it was tearing _your_ face off."

Alicia gasped slightly, fear in her eyes.

Truth be told, George did look terrible. Angelina and I had seen him when he'd returned to the Common Room, battered and bloody. He was limping, too.

"Shut up, Oliver," George sighed.

"George, he's trying to help your sorry ass, because _you_ refuse to go to the hospital wing. If Pomfrey doesn't see that cut soon, it'll scar forever, and then people will be able to tell us apart!" Fred exclaimed. I rolled my eyes at his trivial thinking.

George said nothing in retaliation.

"I still don't understand why you did it. You know you didn't need to," Fred continued.

"I wanted to. I wanted to break every bone in his body. I wanted to ... –" George spat angrily.

"Finally," Oliver muttered.

"'Finally' what?" George growled, obviously still riled.

"Finally you can see how I felt ... felt how I felt ... how I still feel every time I think about her and them."

The girls both threw me a glance.

"We always understood why you did what you did, Oliver. What we didn't understand was why you didn't tell _her_ why you did what you did," Fred answered.

"Its anger you can't control. You can't see for it. And all because of her," George said. "And I know all about it, now."

"You didn't need to do it, though," Fred added. "I haven't."

"Fred, rest assured that if Flint had gone for Angelina, you would be in my exact position right now."

Alicia and I looked at Angelina as she exhaled is shock, as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

"Well, he didn't," Fred snapped. Then he sighed. "I would have probably ripped an arm off. Everyone knows you have more self-control than me."

"The only reason I _didn't_ was because of you two."

"If we hadn't intervened, he might have bitten you or something. You would have had rabies, and you would be frothing at the mouth, telling Alicia that you were in love with her, and I presume she would have told you to jump," Fred laughed.

Alicia's eyes widened at his words.

"She probably will anyway," George said glumly.

Alicia pushed herself away from the wall and stepped into the Common Room. Angelina and I looked at each other before following her.

George, Fred and Oliver were still next to the fire where we had left them, Oliver still cleaning the deep cut on George's forehead.

Fred was the first to notice us. "Girls!" he cried with a massive false grin on his face. His eyes darted to his brother before resting back on the three of us.

Oliver looked over to where we were standing with a wary look on his face, the cleaning of George's bleeding forehead ceasing.

"George," Alicia whispered, her eyes huge, brimming with tears. Those eyes took in the twin, his forehead seeping blood, his cheekbone bruised, his hair matted with dried blood, and his clothes smattered with his blood, and probably some of Flint's.

His blue eyes met hers sadly, before looking at the ground as if he were ashamed. Alicia stepped closer to where they were sitting. "What happened?"

Angelina shot me a look. Alicia was going to lie around the whole thing. She was giving _him_ the chance to lie around the whole thing.

Oliver's eyes connected with mine for a moment, then he looked back to Alicia.

George didn't answer for a long moment, contemplating. Nobody was sure if he would confess to her.

"I fell."

And he didn't.

The stupid boy _didn't_. And she already knew. Her tears fell.

"Liar," she snarled. He looked up at her, surprised at her angry tone, before looking guilty. "I heard the whole thing, George! Everything! Why? Why did you never tell me?" she said the last bit softly. Then she wiped her tears away angrily and snarled, "Why?!"

The room full of people stilled. All eyes were on the six of us.

"Alicia," he said softly, his pain-ridden eyes on her tearful ones.

"Well, you know what, George?" she yelled, then laughed humourlessly, "I love you too! Isn't that hilarious? I love you too, even though you've lied, and even though you're an _idiot_, and even though I _hate_ you." Her sobs almost drowned out her last few words, but we all heard them. "I'm in love with you too, George."

And then she fled, the eyes of the Common Room watching her as she ran out of the Portrait Hole.

Then all eyes were on George, who had stood up and was frozen in shock.

"Merlin," Fred muttered, then looked up at his brother. "George, mate? Are you okay?"

This seemed to unfreeze George. He looked around at his twin. "More than okay," he choked out before running after Alicia, wincing every time he bent his left knee.

--

_So, if books are knowledge, and knowledge is power, and power corrupts, and corruption is a crime, and crime doesn't pay... by my reasoning, if you keep reading ... you'll be broke._

_:) xx _


	10. Chapter 10

Angelina sighed as she fell back onto her bed.

"Why didn't you ask Fred about what was said?" I asked her as I picked up my schoolbag from the floor.

"It's too complicated."

I looked at her sceptically. "How?"

She sighed again and covered her face with her hands.

"Angelina, do you like him or not?"

She stayed quiet.

"Ange," I prompted.

"I think I do," she said quietly. "But I don't know for sure."

"He definitely likes you," I reminded her.

"I know," she said softly.

"Are you going to wait until he tells you face to face?" I asked, putting my bag back down, realising I really didn't want to do my homework.

"I don't know yet. I don't really know how I would go about confronting him about it."

"How about ... 'Hey, Fred, I was listening to what you three guys were saying too, and I guess I would gladly rip someone limb from limb for coming near you also. Want to come to Hogsmeade with me?'"

She uncovered her face at looked at me. "Very funny, Katie," she deadpanned.

"You can't say that wouldn't be effective."

"What about you and Oliver? Will you ever tell him how you feel?"

"Totally different ball-game, Ange. I have no idea how Oliver feels about me, and I have no idea how I feel about him. I don't know if I will ever feel romantic feelings towards him. He's one of my best friends and I won't jeopardise that."

"Who are you kidding? Oliver's perfect, Katie. The only reason _I'm_ not in love with him is because of Fred. He's _completely_ beautiful, entirely attuned to everything about you _and_ he's head-over-heels in love with you."

"Even if that were true, I couldn't ... date him. We're far too close for that. It would be _so_ uncomfortable."

"How will you know until you try?" she said, looking at me with a knowing look.

I just rolled my eyes and sat on my bed, pulling out a worn copy of _Persuasion_ and began to read.

"Why do you read that so much?" Angelina asked, curious.

I looked at her over the thumbed pages. "I like it?" I answered, laughing.

"But it's so ... terrible."

"Yes, it is. That's why I like it."

Angelina laughed and shook her head at me, and, rolling my eyes again, I turned back to my book.

--

I spotted Oliver sitting at the back of the Common Room when I came down to get away from Angelina's ramblings about Alicia not being back yet. He was scribbling in what I expected to be his play book. I smirked and made my way over.

"Writing more plays, Wood? I really don't know how you expect us to remember them all," I said peering over his shoulder. He glanced at me and smirked back.

"You'll manage. That is, once I've physically drilled them into your head."

I held my hands up in surrender. "Hey, do _not_ come near me with a drill. You're dangerous enough without sharp objects."

I sat down next to him, looking over his play as he continued to scribble away.

"So," I began lightly. "Found a date for Hallowe'en yet?"

His eyes met mine briefly, before he smirked down at his book. "Do you regret asking that?"

I grimaced. "A little, yeah."

He laughed before shaking his head. "I don't date."

"I've noticed."

"I don't see _you_ dating anyone!"

"That's because _you_ won't let me, Ollie," I said sweetly.

He rolled his eyes. "Do you _want_ to date Davies or Diggory? Be my guest. Just bear in mind that they _will_ try to steal these," he said, indicating the book, "and alienate us two," he said, indicating between me and him.

"Hmm," I murmured. "That's probably true. But is it so hard to believe that someone might want to date me just because they want to, rather than having all these ulterior motives?"

"Lee Jordan did."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you really think there was no ulterior motive there? He's friends with the twins, who both want to date one of the Gryffindor Chasers. He must have felt a little left out, and I was the only one left."

Oliver glanced up at me. "You might have a point there," he said quietly, but then shook his head. "But plenty of guys want to date you, Katie. Not all of them are like Davies, Diggory and Jordan. Remember that."

I hummed in response. "So," I began after a pause in the conversation. "Do you want to come with us at Hallowe'en, then?"

"Who's 'us'?"

"Me, Angelina and Alicia. Well, I take it after tonight it'll just be me and Ange," I said, looking over at the Portrait Hole. Then I turned and smiled at him.

He shook his head. "Hogsmeade has lost its novelty after four years."

I frowned. "But you _have _to go. It's Hallowe'en, Oliver!"

"That's kind of lost its novelty too, after _seventeen_ years."

"Where's your holiday spirit?"

He smirked at me and rolled his eyes.

"Come with us, Ol'."

He shook his head. "No. It's insanely boring down there."

"We'll make it fun," I smiled. "Plus, you'll bring different conversation. You know, it's only been a few hours, but I'm already sick of hearing about the twins." I rolled my eyes. "So, I require you to keep my sanity."

He laughed slightly whist shaking his head.

"You're coming, or else."

"'Or else', what?" he smirked.

"Or else I'll _kick_ you."

--

"Oliver, will you bloody well _wake up_!" I huffed, glaring at his sleeping form. "Oliver!" He didn't stir. Not a blink. Then I smirked and leant down close to his ear, feeling like some revenge was in order.

"_QUIDDITCH_!"

He jerked awake, looking at me in shock.

"Hello, Oliver. Nice of you to join the Land of the Living. Happy Hallowe'en."

He blinked at me stupidly for a second, before glaring up at me and rolling over, facing away from me.

"Ol – i – _verrr_!" I groaned, shoving his shoulder with each syllable.

He growled.

"Since when do you sleep in this late? You're usually up at, what, 5AM?"

"Since it was Hallowe'en, and I don't want to go to Hogsmeade," he muttered.

I shoved his shoulder again. "Come on. _Please_?"

"No."

"Oliver," I moaned.

He ignored me.

"Oliver."

Nothing.

I pushed his shoulder in frustration, only this time, Oliver retaliated. He seized my wrist in his hand and pulled me over him and onto the bed.

"Please shut up," he said, his eyes closed, my wrist still held in his hand.

"_Ow_."

"Baby," he muttered.

"Let go," I told him, trying to pull my wrist out of his grasp.

"Nope."

I pulled more fervently.

"Can't you lie still?"

"Nope," I mocked. His lips pulled up into a smirk. Then he pulled me under his duvet, wrapping his arms around me, pinning my arms.

Oh. Oliver Wood has no shirt on.

I stilled, stunned for a second.

His eyes were still closed, his bare arms surrounding me securely.

Okay. Oliver Wood is topless. In bed. While hugging me. _Me._

I struggled to keep my heart at its regular beat.

Why am I acting like this? It's not like I haven't seen Oliver without a shirt on before.

Maybe it's just because this felt far too intimate.

"Oliver?" I said, deciding to break the silence.

"Mm?" he mumbled, his breath caressing my face.

I took a breath, trying to calm myself.

"As lovely as this is, I'd really rather like to go to Hogsmeade. And I want you to come with me."

His eyes cracked open. "Why?"

"Because," I pouted.

"Well, I'd really rather like to stay here all day."

I sighed. "Fine. You do that," I snapped. "Let me go."

He looked at me contemplatively.

"Oliver. Let me go," I said firmly, trying to push away from him.

He continued to hold me.

"Let _go_!" And with a hard push off of his bare chest, I broke free of his arms, and fell off of the bed.

"_Oof!_"

"Well, _that's_ going to hurt in the morning." I looked up to see Oliver leaning up on one elbow, smirking at me from his position on the bed.

I glared at him fiercely, and stood up. I felt my cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"Are you coming or not?" I snapped.

He just looked at me, a ghost of a smile on his lips, his hair falling into his laughter-filled eyes.

I snarled, humiliated and angry, and stormed out of the room. I rushed down the stairs and barrelled into the Common Room.

"You okay, Katie?" Angelina asked, scrutinising my face, which was probably glowing red.

"I'm fine," I snapped. "Oliver's not coming. Let's go."

I snatched up my messenger bag and black coat from the armchair where I'd tossed them before I'd gone up to embarrass myself. I pulled the coat over my black knit dress and indigo jeans, and threw the strap of the bag over myself before bolting out of the Portrait Hole. Angelina bemusedly followed me.

--

_Sorry for confusing some of you with my last author's note. I shant be as confusing with this one. Reviews are appreciated, though not required. Just if you have the time ... :)_

_xx_


	11. Chapter 11

The streets of Hogsmeade were uncomfortably cold – Angelina had wrapped the lower half of her face in her emerald scarf, and I had magicked myself some black earmuffs.

This was the only problem with living in Scotland – the climate. An integral part of the draw of a country, and Scotland totally fails in it. It's wet and _freezing_ cold from autumn through to spring. And there's even freezing days through summer!

In Angelina's hands was a white paper bag with Quality Quidditch Supplies' logo on the front. She had bought new red Chaser's gloves from the new branch that had just opened. I hadn't bought anything, seeing as I had just bought new Chaser's gloves the summer previous.

"It's too cold," I told her, shivering.

"I know," she answered. "I wonder how Alicia and George are."

"They're probably cold too," I said.

She laughed and shook her head at me. "So, are you going to tell me what happened with Oliver earlier, or not?"

"Not," I answered promptly.

"Katie," she reprimanded.

I sighed. "He was being an arse."

"That doesn't explain the luminous face."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around myself.

"What _happened_?" she persisted, her curiosity obviously piqued.

"I fell off the bed and he laughed at me." I stared at the ground, waiting for the laughter. I glanced up to look at her when she didn't laugh. She was staring at me, confused. "What?" I asked.

"You fell ... _off_ the bed?"

"Yes..." I said, looking at her worriedly. It wasn't that complicated a sentence. Why didn't she understand that?

"So ... you were _on_ the bed? _In_ the bed?" she asked, smirking.

I flushed.

"Well? Were you?" she pressed, glee in her voice.

"Nothing happened."

"Bloody _hell_, Katie!"

"_Nothing happened!"_

"Even _so_! You were in his _bed_! How did that happen?"

"He pulled me down so that I would stop pestering him to get up." I glanced at her grinning face. "Shut up," I muttered.

"And I'll presume, like most boys, he was sleeping partly naked?"

My face must have betrayed me once again, because she squealed and hugged me.

"Seriously, just ... shut up, Ange," I said, pushing her off of me. As I said this, I noticed someone walking towards us. A boy, with a white jacket and dark jeans. He had dark hair, too.

Roger Davies flashed a grin at me as he stopped in front of us, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

"Katie, you look beautiful today," he said softly. Then he turned to Angelina. "Pretty and lovely as ever, Johnson. What a gorgeous team Wood has. I'm quite jealous."

"You team won't appreciate comments like that, Davies," I said coldly.

He flashed another grin and handed me a white rose I hadn't noticed in his hands. "For you, beautiful."

"Thanks," I said dismissively, taking the flower.

"Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?" he asked, smiling again.

"Sure!" Angelina said at the same time I said, "_No_."

He looked wounded and he dropped his dark blue eyes from mine. "Please?" he said gently.

Angelina looked at me incredulously.

"Davies..." I began. He looked up at me, and I looked at Angelina. "Can I have a minute?" She nodded and entered Zonko's, which we had just passed. I looked back at the Ravenclaw. "Davies..." I began again, then struggled to find the right words.

He met my eyes once again with his deep blue ones and took a step closer to me. "Katie, I'm really ... _really_ trying, here. I've never tried so hard for a girl to like me before. I don't know what else to do."

I sighed. He looked so wounded, I had to stop myself from placing my hand on his arm.

"Davies ... It's not like you're not trying hard enough, it's that ..."

"That I'm not the one you want?" he said softly, dropping his gaze from mine. "That I'm not Wood?"

I felt anger bubble up in my chest at that, but let it slide, knowing better than to slap the Ravenclaw Captain in the middle of Hogsmeade. "Oliver and I aren't like that," I said calmly.

He threw me a sceptical look.

"Look, up until very recently, you haven't been the nicest of people to me. Admittedly, today you're much more tolerable, but that doesn't erase what you've done in the past."

"Don't you believe in second chances?"

"Yes. But you've had yours. And your third, fourth, and fifth ... Davies, I'm tired of you playing these games. It's not fair to me at all. I feel like I'm trapped in a three-way war."

"I'm sorry, Katie. I really didn't ever mean to be such a ... –"

"Pig," I finished, scowling at him.

"I didn't mean to be such a pig, and I'm really sorry."

I sighed. "It still doesn't take back these few months. And it doesn't take back all the fighting."

He dropped his eyes from mine.

"But I forgive you as much as I can," I said softly.

His eyes met mine again. They really were beautiful eyes.

"Really?" he asked, a smile brightening up his whole face.

I nodded.

"Thank you," he breathed, before kissing me lightly on the cheek. "Well, I'll see you around."

I nodded. "I suppose you will."

"Bye," he smiled, before turning and heading back the way he came. I watched him go, before I was pounced upon.

"Katie!"

I looked at Angelina and rolled my eyes.

"What?"

"Why the _hell_ don't you say yes to him?"

I just stared at her incredulously.

"Well, if you don't want to date, Oliver ..." she said.

"I'm not dating Davies, Ange," I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

"He's one of the biggest heart-throbs in school!"

"So?"

"Katie, you have to date _sometime_ in your life."

"I will. Once I find someone to date."

"Right, so let me get this right. You have three of the most gorgeous boys at Hogwarts chasing after you, all of which are ridiculously sweet and romantic, and you need to _find_ someone to date?"

I just rolled my eyes at her. "Ange, just drop it."

She sighed and shook her head at me, before saying, "So ... Broomsticks?" whilst shivering and rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. I nodded and we made our way there.

--

We made our way back to the castle for the Hallowe'en feast. It was quiet, with most people already inside the castle, as we walked up to the Main Door. Quiet, that is, until someone shouted me from behind us.

"Katie?" Angelina said, turning around to look at the person running up the steps behind us. "It's one of your admirers."

"I know," I snapped, then sighed. "You go on ahead. I'll take care of this and meet you in there. Save me a seat ... and keep Fred and George away from my pumpkin pie."

"Will do," she grinned before leaving through the door.

I turned around and waited for him to reach the top of the steps. He was wearing a beige jacket and black jeans, with a white scarf draped around his neck. He flashed me a grin as he neared me.

"Katie," he said in greeting.

"Diggory," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"How are you?" he asked, his head ducking slightly to look me in the eyes.

"I'm fine, thanks," I answered.

"Good," he smiled. He stared at me for a moment.

Too long a moment.

"What?" I snapped, becoming too self-conscious.

He blinked before smiling apologetically. "Sorry, it's just ... you're too beautiful today. I'm struggling to make coherent conversation."

I blushed lightly at that. I didn't think Diggory could be so ... sweet.

He smiled at my blush and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. He took out a single yellow rose and handed it to me.

"I know it's not as endearing, since I notice it's the second rose you're received today, but ..." he said, eyeing the white rose already in my hands.

I smiled. "Yes. It seems you and Davies are on the same wavelength."

"Eugh, don't say _that_," he laughed. "Well, I'd better go. I promised the team we'd have a good-luck toast before the feast started ... and it sounds like I've missed it," he said, grinning. "Bye, Katie."

"Bye."

I waited at the Main Door to hear the Entrance Hall door open, then close, before following him into the Hall.

--

The two roses sat beside me on the table while we all ate at the feast. The twins, Angelina and Alicia all talked animatedly, shrieking with laughter at some rehashed joke of George's that he'd told Alicia on their date. The whole hall was buzzing with chatter and laughter and festivity.

I sat in silence.

And the boy across from me was equally silent, a tiny crease in his brow-line, staring determinedly at the grain of the oak table, barely touching the holiday feast the whole school were sharing.

I was confused. What was he angry about?

Scratch 'angry', actually. Hostility was rolling off of him in tidal waves.

I didn't want to ask him outright, in a hall full of people. And the Hogwarts population were notoriously nosey. So, I remained quiet, watching him through my eyelashes, barely touching my food too.

Eventually, after Dumbledore's speech, we all began to filter out of the Hall.

Oliver walked beside me on the way up the stairs. He didn't speak to me, or even _look_ at me.

The flower stems clutched in my hand were slowly getting crushed as I grew more and more frustrated. Shouldn't _I_ be the one that was angry? He _laughed_ at me this morning!

The anger from earlier bubbled through me.

He hadn't even apologised. He was too busy being temperamental about nothing, it would seem.

"Katie." His voice broke through my angry thoughts about him.

"What?" I snapped.

He looked at me, obviously surprised at my tone of voice, before saying, "I don't think we're getting into the Common Room tonight."

I looked ahead of us, and sure enough, there seemed to be a pile up of Gryffindors on the stairs in front of the Fat Lady's Portrait, and we were at the end of a very long queue. I squinted up to the Portrait to see if the Fat Lady was refusing entry or something. But she wasn't there ... and her landscape was in tatters.

--

_Love._

_xx_


	12. Chapter 12

We all made our way back down to the Great Hall, the fear chilling us – Sirius Black could still be in the building.

Oliver walked closer to me now, his black mood seemingly evaporated into one which was extremely on-edge.

We were just passing the fourth floor on the Grand Staircase when someone called, "Hey, Katie! What's going on?"

It was Diggory. I wondered vaguely why he was on the fourth floor, before I extracted myself from the flow of students and stood in front of him.

"We can't get into our Common Room," I said, my voice shaking.

Oliver had stayed at my side, I'd noticed. I looked up at his face to see his bad mood was back, tenfold.

"Why? What's wrong?" Cedric asked.

"It's Black," Oliver told him, almost calm.

"_Black_?"

I nodded.

"Shit ..."

"Dumbledore sent us back down again," I said.

"Are you alright?" Diggory asked, apparently concerned.

"She's fine," Oliver snapped. I looked up at him weirdly. He just glared at Diggory. He glared back. I rolled my eyes at them both.

"You know, Katie, people will be thinking you're going out with all three of us, what with carrying around the flowers, and always being with Wood. People will talk, love. Because, you have to admit, making three guys fall in love with you is a bit slutty."

Oliver moved too fast for me to even think about stopping him. His fist had connected with Cedric's jaw in a millisecond. Cedric's fist had punched Oliver in the gut in another.

The roses dropped from my hand and I flew in between the two of them, forcing them apart.

Cedric pushed me aside and punched Oliver in the face. Oliver stumbled back, and I ran for Cedric myself. I felt my knuckles crack as I hit him full force in the mouth.

He bled.

I stumbled back from him and turned to check on Oliver. He had one hand over his left eye, and his mouth had dropped in shock.

"Katie?" Oliver stared at me.

I looked back at Cedric. He was displaying a bloody smile. "You pack a good punch, Kates."

"_Go _to the hospital wing, Diggory. And don't you _dare_ call me Kates again."

He chuckled, and made his way to the staircase to go up to the fifth floor, his hand over his bleeding mouth.

As soon as he was out of sight, and ear shot, I burst into tears.

Oliver's arms were around me in an instant.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I sobbed in reply. "Does your hand hurt?" He had noticed that I was cradling my right hand in my left. He took the hand gently in his and examined it. "Do you want to go to the Infirmary?"

I shook my head, then took a shuddering breath, trying to stop the continual flow of tears. I flexed my fingers, wincing slightly. "Nothing's broken. You should go, though," I said looking up at him. As soon as I met his eyes, more tears overflowed.

"I don't need to go. Katie, why are you crying?" He sounded worried.

"I don't know," I sobbed. He pulled me to him again, and I buried my face in his robe.

What had possessed me to do that? I'd never hit anyone in my life. Never.

Oliver stroked my hair and shushed me quietly. I gulped back sobs.

"Kates," he said quietly, "we should be in the Hall. We'd better go. Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, pulling away from me.

I nodded as I hiccoughed back another sob, wiping my face free of tears and trying (but failing miserably) to smile at him. And in that second, I knew why I'd done it. It was hypocrisy of the worst kind. I had done it to protect him. Like he had done for me.

He smiled back and took my hand. We began to walk towards the next flight of stairs. I pretended not to notice Oliver stepping squarely on the roses on our way past.

The only difference between me and him was, he had the good grace to not pull me up for being stupid. I, evidently, didn't.

Why did I doubt my judgement of Diggory? And Davies, for that matter. I knew what they were. Why did I decide that I might be wrong? I _wasn't_. I was completely right about the two of them.

We finally reached the Great Hall. I spotted Angelina, Alicia and the twins sitting atop of their purple sleeping bags in a circle at the left centre of the Hall. Oliver followed me over to where they were sitting, and grabbed two nearby sleeping bags that were unoccupied. He placed them down next to the team.

"What took you so long?" Alicia immediately demanded.

"Yeah. Need we remind you that a mass murderer may be on the loose inside the school?" Angelina snapped.

"What happened to your eye, mate?" George asked Oliver, staring at him.

"Katie, did you _hit_ Oliver?" Angelina asked in awe, staring at my hand that I still cradled.

Oliver laughed when I yelped, "_No!_"

"Katie didn't hit _me_," he said, a triumphant smile on his face. "She busted Diggory's lip after _he_ hit me."

All four of them stared at us incredulously, as if they were waiting for us to yell 'April Fools' in autumn.

Oliver just grinned and sat down on top of one of the sleeping bags.

"Lights off in five minutes!" Percy, the Head Boy, was shrieking.

"You _punched _Diggory?" Alicia yelp, the first to finally find their voice.

I flushed slightly.

"_Nice one_, Katie!" Fred whooped.

I glanced at Oliver, who was still grinning blissfully.

"I thought you were okay with him today?" Angelina asked.

I rolled my eyes. "I thought so too," I muttered.

"What happened?"

"He overstepped the line," Oliver growled darkly, smile gone.

I sighed and looked up at him witheringly. He was angry again.

"It's okay, Oliver."

He shook his head and muttered, "No, it isn't," under his breath. I ignored him and turned back to the others.

"Heard anything else about Black?" I asked. This sparked a lengthy debate between them about how he could have gotten in.

I ignored what they were saying and sighed to myself.

Cedric had made a mistake today. Just when I was beginning to think he wasn't so bad after all, he messed it up.

Why does their behaviour still surprise me? It's like I _want_ them to be better people. It wouldn't make a blind bit of difference to me if they _were_. I still wouldn't date them.

The conversation had come to a close after all the candles had been extinguished in one brisk clap of Percy's hands. We all shuffled into our separate sleeping bags.

I smiled as Oliver took my good hand in his, his thumb stroking my knuckles gently. I lay on my side, facing him. I looked up in the darkness to see him staring at me intently. My heartbeat stuttered for a second.

"What?" I whispered, feeling self-conscious.

He smiled lopsidedly and shuffled closer so that our sleeping bags were touching. He leant down next to my ear and said, "I just keep replaying you punching Diggory in my head. That was one of the best moments in my school career, you know," he muttered, still smiling. "And imagining you punching Davies, too."

I pulled my hand out of his caressing fingers and slapped his arm.

"Shut up," I growled, "Or I'll punch _you_. In fact," I said, suddenly remembering that morning, "I might do that anyway, the next time you laugh at me like you did earlier."

His brow crinkled for a second, confused, before smoothing out into a wide grin. I glared at him. He rearranged his features into a neutral expression.

"I am very sorry for laughing, Kates," he apologised. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride," I muttered. He fought to keep the smile off of his face.

"I came down to find you to say sorry, in Hogsmeade, but I was ... distracted."

I looked up at him curiously. His expression was brooding, like at dinner.

"Distracted?" I asked.

"Will you two lovebirds _separate_ yourselves and _shut up_ please?" Percy's loud, pompous voice broke through the silence of the Hall.

Oliver grabbed my hand and winked at me before looking up at Percy.

"Perce! How are you this evening? How's the crush on Clear –"

"Wood!" Percy yelped, his ears practically glowing in the dark Hall.

Oliver just smiled serenely.

"You are _so_ lucky that my Head Boyship is more important to me than hexing you while you sleep. Think about _that_ the next time you cosy down in _our_ dorm," he said threateningly, then kicked Oliver so that he was pushed up against my side. With a final sharp glare, Percy stalked off to yell at some giggling Hufflepuff fourth years at the other side of the Hall.

"That was _mean_, Oliver," I whispered, smirking.

He shrugged and smirked back. "Fire with fire."

I shook my head at him, smirk still in place.

Then, what happened next was extremely confusing.

We stared at each other seriously for a moment, not once breaking eye contact. We just stared, dull green into deep chocolate. He really did have the prettiest eyes...

And those eyes were steadily getting closer. I was unaware of who was moving. But it didn't really matter. His eyes made me not care.

His arms circled my waist, our eyes evaluating one another intensely. I felt flushed. His eyes made me feel like I was burning up.

His fingers caressed down the side of my face, his eyes heavy-lidded. His laboured breath met mine before his open lips _just_ gazed my cheek.

And then, in a split second, I realised what was happening. _How_ in _Merlin's name_ I didn't realise before, when he was much, _much_ further away was _beyond_ me.

Apparently, he realised too, in the same moment, and we both jumped back in shock.

"Uhh..." I stammered unintelligently.

"Sorry," he muttered, his voice low, his accent more pronounced and coarse.

He looked as panicky as I felt. My heart was hammering in my chest as if it were trying to break some of my ribs.

We didn't let our gazed lock again. Apparently, that was dangerous.

I could barely breathe when my next realisation hit me. I had been about to kiss Oliver Wood ... and he had been about to _let_ me.

I fought not to hyperventilate. I scooted further away from him and turned to face away, so that he wouldn't catch sight of my panicked, hysterical expression.

What had gotten into me?

--


	13. Chapter 13

It was an uncomfortable night's sleep, to say the least. I watched Oliver's clenched fist until I fell asleep, praying it would unclench. Irrationally, I thought that once it did, we would be okay again. I didn't like this awkward feeling between us.

It didn't unclench, and I must have fallen asleep watching it, because the next thing I knew, bright light was hitting me in the face, waking me up automatically.

I covered my face with my hands, eyes still not adjusted to the sunlight.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself, pulling the sleeping bag over my face.

I heard chuckling, then someone saying, "You don't like the sun much, then?"

Disorientated, I threw the sleeping bag back, blinking profusely, trying to see the person who spoke.

"Morning, sunshine."

I stared, shocked, at Davies for a moment, before staring at the empty space where Oliver should have been.

"He left early this morning," he said, answering my unasked question.

"Oh," I said softly, hurt, and confused.

I looked back at Davies, his hair ruffled from sleep, and wondering how horrendous I looked as I watched him sitting there watching me with a soft smile on his face.

"Why are you here?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled apologetically. "I saw him leave. You looked so pretty in your sleep, but I couldn't see you properly, so ..."

"So you came over to watch me sleep?" I deadpanned.

He nodded guiltily.

"Sorry," he said. "Hey, are you okay? You look upset."

I shook my hair out of my face and sat up. "I'm fine."

I glanced at Oliver's empty sleeping bag, worried. His leaving couldn't be a good sign.

I could feel Davies sceptical gaze before I turned to look at him. "I'm fine," I repeated.

"Well, okay," he said unsurely, beginning to get up. "You know, Katie, I really don't understand why you don't have a boyfriend. Well – I do. You refuse everyone who asks. But I'm surprised _no-one_ has taken your fancy." He phrased his last statement like a question.

I rolled my eyes at his prying, but said nothing.

"Please go out with me, Katie," he asked, his voice borderline moaning.

"Go away, Davies," I muttered darkly, glaring up at him.

He sighed, then said, "I'm not like Wood, Katie. I'm not as careful as him, and in a way, I envy that about him. But I know how to treat a girl."

"Was that a compliment, Davies? You're too kind," a voice said dryly.

My eyes bugged slightly in shock when I heard his voice. I craned my neck to look past Davies, and sure enough, Oliver was making his way towards us. Davies' shoulders slumped slightly, before turning around to glare at Oliver. Oliver's expression was nonchalant. , gazing at Davies lazily.

"I thought if I left her alone, the dogs would come sniffing," his expression turning sour.

I sighed and stood up, only just noticing that most people had left their sleeping bags. I wondered vaguely what time it was, before looking back at the two glaring boys.

"No fighting," I said weakly. Only Davies turned to look at me, his eyes concerned – whether genuine or not, I wasn't sure.

Then he turned back to Oliver, the glare gone. "Fine ... fine, I'm leaving," he said, "But, just ... can I ask something first?"

Oliver continued glaring.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. Why do you lie so much, Wood? How can you stand it?"

"_Leave_," Oliver ground out, furious. I didn't understand why.

"Everyone should know their options before the imminent decision" he continued, a smug grin plastered across his face, pointing at himself.

"You really think she would choose you?" Oliver choked through clenched teeth.

"I have no doubt, Wood."

"She'll never – _never _–" Oliver couldn't finish his sentence. The words stuck angrily in his throat.

"Don't be so sure. It's your call. Either you're in, or you're out," he said, giving me one last look before winding his way through the sleeping bags cluttering the floor to the Entrance Hall.

We both stayed silent after Davies' departure. I watched him as he avoided my eyes for a long moment before losing my patience.

"Oliver?" I said, trying and failing to keep the annoyed edge from my voice.

His eyes finally found mine, an unexplainable tortured expression on his face. "Ignore every word that flew carelessly from his mouth, you hear me Kates?"

I heard a soft whooshing as the air left my lungs unexpectedly. I nodded, unable to do anything else.

The horrible expression was replaced with a relieved one. He just nodded back stiffly.

I managed to get enough air into me to say, "I didn't understand any of it, anyway." My voice sounded odd – mechanical, almost. I didn't like it, and I could tell by the confused crinkle of his brow that Oliver had noticed, but thankfully, he didn't comment.

"Are you going up?" he asked, referring to the Gryffindor tower.

"Are we allowed to?"

"Oh, sorry. Yes. Dumbledore gave us the all clear this morning. I forgot you were still sleeping."

"Oh. Did they find him?"

He shook his head grimly. "No-one has a clue how he escaped – or how he got in, for that matter. Then again, Hogwarts seems easy in comparison to Azkaban."

I just nodded, then stepped over my sleeping bag to where he was standing. He smiled at me, and relief swept through me.

Back to normal.

"How are you this morning?" he asked as we began winding our way out of the Hall.

"I'm okay," I said, glancing up at him warily. "You?"

He seemed to struggle with that. "Not great," he eventually answered. "I had to go see Pomfrey."

My brow immediately snapped into a frown. "Why? What's wrong?"

He grimaced. "Diggory chipped a rib."

"You're _joking_," I gasped. "Merlin, Oliver." I stopped his walking by holding his arm. He turned to look at me. "Let me see."

He rolled his eyes at me, before sighing and pulling up the blue t-shirt he wore.

I gasped at the extent of his bruise. It covered the majority of his abdomen, in sickly blue and violent purple. I touched cold fingers to the hard planes of his stomach.

"Oliver," I whispered, pained.

And despite his injuries, Oliver was _beautiful_. His toned stomach made butterflies appear in mine. My face began to heat up, and I removed the hand.

Oliver looked at me seriously, then pulled his t-shirt back down. "I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry, Oliver."

He frowned. "Sorry? For what?"

"He hit you because of –"

Oliver stopped my speech my placing a hand on my cheek. "I hit _him_, remember?"

"Yes, because of _m_–"

"Kates, do me a favour? Don't blame yourself for me getting hurt again. It _isn't_ your fault, and I'm okay. This is _Diggory's_ fault."

My eyes scoured his determined face. "You know I won't accept that."

He sighed. "Yes. I _do_ know that," he said before taking his hand away from my face. "Please, just try to humour me, and _pretend_ you don't blame yourself?" Then, he took off towards the staircase.

I rolled my eyes and followed him.

--

I walked into the Hospital Wing later that day, not really understanding why I had come.

"Katie?" Diggory asked, surprise heavy in his voice. He lay atop of the bed closest to the door. His surprise at my being there wasn't a patch on mine.

"Hi," I said, hesitating beside the door.

I honestly don't know why I'm here. I _hate_ Diggory, but guilt compelled me to show face.

"I'm sorry for busting your lip."

"You didn't. You knocked a tooth out," he said matter of factly.

"_What_?! Oh, Merlin, Cedric, I'm so _sorry_."

He waved my apology off, flashing his dashing smile, and sure enough, he was missing a premolar in his perfect grin.

"Pomfrey said she could fix it, but Snape has to make a potion of her, and he presumably has better things to do with his time than help out the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain."

"I'm sorry," I said again, dropping into one of the plastic visitor chairs.

"Its fine," he shrugged, crossing his legs at the ankles and placing his hands behind his head. "So..." he said, "I said something out of line last night, huh?"

I laughed bitterly. "Just a bit, yeah."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It's just when I see you with Wood, I ... I get _crazy_ jealous, because you actually like him, and spend time with him, willingly ... and I don't have that. And I _really_ want it," he said, laughing at himself. "But that's no excuse for what I said. I'm very sorry."

I nodded, accepting the apology. "Thank you."

He looked at me for a moment. "You know, Katie, I really like you. I like that you're not like other girls ... but, on the other hand, that's exactly the problem: you're not like other girls. You've never looked at me twice. And don't get me wrong – I'm not that conceited. I don't think I'm better looking that anyone in this school. But girls _do_ look at me."

I nodded in agreement.

"But you don't," he sighed, put out. "One of the very few girls I actually like."

I grimaced at this, turning my head away.

"Why is that?" he asked, "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

I smiled a little before answering. "I don't know. It could be something to do with the prat you've been acting around me."

"I get nervous around you."

I looked at him, eyebrow quirked. "You don't look nervous."

"I'm good at hiding it."

"Evidently."

He sighed, looking up at the white ceiling. "I just can't hold my tongue around Wood. He riles me _so_ much. He's so ... _smug_ and ... _eurgh_!"

I shook my head slightly. "Smug about what?"

"About _you_. Because he has you, and I don't."

I continued to look at him, confused.

"I'm a good guy, really, Katie. And I've only ever fought with one person before Wood and Davies. I'm not as violent as I seem to be unintentionally portraying myself as."

I sighed. "You don't understand. It doesn't _matter_. I don't want a boyfriend. I'm content as I am. I don't like all this fighting and bickering, because I know, it's all for nothing. I won't go out with either of you, because I don't _want_ to."

"That ... or it could be because you like Wood."

I snapped. "For the _last time_. I _do not_ like _Wood_."

He looked at me sceptically, before saying, "Prove it."

"And how would I do that?"

"You could kiss me. That would prove your point quite nicely."

"_No!_" I yelled, anger bubbling over.

He watched as I took several breaths to calm myself.

"No, I will _not_, Diggory. You insufferable _git_. I _hate _you."

He looked at me calmly. "Did you come here to insult me, Katie?" he asked me lightly.

"No, I didn't. I came to apologise, though I have _no _idea why I bothered. I'm really sick to death of this."

Diggory said nothing.

I crossed my arms across my chest defiantly.

"If you like me as much as you say you do, Cedric, you'll leave me alone. Because this isn't fair."

He looked at me for a long moment, evaluating. Then something changed in his eyes, and he sighed.

"I know," he said, defeated. "I know. It's not fair."

I looked at him uncertainly, and he met my eyes intensely.

"I'll back down."

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"I'll back down. I'll do the good, gentlemanly thing, and stop fighting for you. I'm willing to ... to sacrifice my own happiness if it makes you happier." He smiled tightly, his gap not quite showing.

I knew what he was saying, behind his words. He was doing the honourable thing, he thought. He was self-sacrificing.

I almost rolled my eyes.

"Wow," I said, my eyebrows raised.

"So, you can tell Wood he only has one left to fight with. I'll bet he'll be disappointed. I could tell he liked hitting me."

This time I really did roll my eyes. "Oliver isn't a fighter, either."

He smiled. "And you're so sure of that, too," he said serenely.

I nodded. "I am. I know Oliver."

He smiled a little brighter, as if disbelieving.

"Well," I said. "I'd better be going."

"Okay," he said softly. "Um ... Katie?"

"Yeah?" I said, rising from the uncomfortable chair.

He leant forward and caressed my cheek with his fingers. "If you _ever_ need someone ... whether to be just friends or someone to talk to or something else, I'll always be here."

I blinked, shocked. "I hope you get your tooth fixed," I muttered, before fleeing from the Wing, a little off-kilter.

--


	14. Chapter 14

I stared out of the Common Room window as the torrential rain pummelled the earth, unrelenting and vicious.

It would just be our luck to have a match on the day with the worst forecasted weather in five years in this area. We would have great fun at this Saturday's match against Slytherin.

My back protested slightly from leaning forward out of the straight-backed chair I sat on next to the window, books spread out in front of me on the wooden table, the quiet murmur of students dotted around the Common Room melting into the background noise of the crackling fire. I leant back into my chair and sighed happily.

I was incredibly relaxed ... though, somewhere at the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't be. I should really be frantically running through every single one of the some two-thousand-and-eighty-two plays Oliver has taught us over the past three years.

But I wasn't. I was calm, gazing out at the contradictory weather, light ... daydreaming ... relaxed.

I wasn't pleased when this relaxed state was interrupted by someone tapping me sharply on the shoulder.

I turned and looked up at Oliver. He was completely drenched, his robes dripping onto the ruby carpet at his feet, his hair plastered to his forehead. My jaw dropped in shock.

"Oliver –" I tried, finding my voice, "Why're you –?" I cut myself off when I noted the broomstick in his blue, shaking hand. "You were _out_ in _that_? Oliver, you're going to get _sick _–"

"Shut up."

I wasn't taken aback when Oliver cut me off abruptly. He always got overly rude close to match time. And we only had five days left. This was _polite_. He was usually much worse.

I looked at him critically as he dragged his hand roughly through his hair, making it stand on end.

"What is it, Oliver?"

"Practice. Hooch will be there to ensure no one tries to kill my Seeker. Seven o'clock. Tell the others." And with that, he left, dripping his way out of the portrait hole, undoubtedly to go back to his precious pitch.

Idiot.

I sighed and looked down at the books spread before me. I really needed this Magical Creature's essay finished.

I looked at the clock. It had already passed six. I had no hope in hell.

With a sigh, I closed my books. Serves me right for daydreaming. I would think of a good excuse in the morning. Hagrid would forgive me.

"Hello, Katie," Angelina said pleasantly, dropping into the seat across from me, her arms laden with books. She _thunk_ed them down and went to open one.

"I ... wouldn't bother," I said with a grimace.

She looked up at me, her shoulders slumped. "Oliver's called practice, hasn't he?" she asked in a monotone.

"'Fraid so,"

"_Damn_ him."

"It's five days to the match."

"This is due in two."

"We knew he'd be like this, Ange. It's his last year."

She sighed and closed the books she'd cracked open.

"I know ... I just _really_ wanted us to be wrong."

I laughed, then gathered my books into my arms. "Coming?"

She glanced at the clock, which now read twenty past, and glowered at it. "Sure," she sighed.

--

All seven of us dripped onto the Gryffindor changing room floor, wet, muddy and tired. It had been a difficult practice in the howling wind and the hammering rain.

Even _Oliver_ looked tired ... though weary and hopeless were probably better words to describe him. He didn't even seem to have the energy to comment on the practice, because he walked straight past us without comment, or even eye-contact, to go to the showers.

It was a bad sign, I thought vaguely ... but I was far too tired to be bothered by it, so I went for my shower without pointing it out to the others.

I was the second last out of the showers. Angelina, Alicia, Harry and the twins had left already. I sat on the bench outside the male showers, my foot pulled up to rest on the bench so that my leg was flush with my body.

I began to drag a brush through my freshly washed, sodden hair.

I didn't notice that Oliver had come out of the showers until he tugged the brush out of my grasp and into his own. I looked up at him curiously.

"I need something to distract me from Quidditch. It's either: I brush your hair, or I cry. Take your pick."

I smirked. "You know which one I'll pick."

He just glowered, then rolled his eyes. He took me by the shoulders and turned me so that my back was facing him. He then sat on the bench behind me and set to work.

I was taken by surprise at how gentle he was as he brushed. Oliver never ceased to surprise me, it seemed.

His voice broke quietly through the peace that had washed through me the second time that day. "It was a good practice. Tough ... but no one made any huge mistakes."

I hummed in agreement.

"I'm a horrible Captain, aren't I?"

I glanced round at him with a quirked eyebrow. "No you're not. You're a brilliant Captain, Oliver."

He shook his head. "I should have said well done to the team. But instead, I went moping into the showers like a child just because everything wasn't _perfect_," he carried on, as if I hadn't spoken, mocking himself. "That wasn't fair. I'm sorry, Katie."

I shook my head infinitesimally. "Don't be thick, Oliver. Don't beat yourself up over it. We understand."

He sighed. "You shouldn't _have_ to," he muttered, pulling the brush through the length of my hair.

"This is so relaxing," I whispered, my eyes closing.

I heard Oliver laugh quietly behind me. "Who knew that all it took to tame the firey Katie Bell was a good grooming?"

I turned my head slightly and stuck my tongue out at him childishly. He laughed again and continued brushing.

A few moments silence passed between us. Just the sound of the brush through my hair and Oliver breathing in and out, slowly.

"I went to see Diggory today," I told him quietly.

Oliver stopped for a second, mid-stroke, before continuing. "Oh?" he asked, his voice light and innocent.

I nodded slightly. "I knocked his tooth out."

He snickered. "It was a good punch. Remind me to not get on your bad side."

"I will," I smirked.

Oliver cleared his throat slightly, before saying, "What else did he say?"

I glanced round at him for a second, before turning back. "He said that he wasn't going to ... _pursue_ me anymore."

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

I shook my head. "I think he's serious this time. Played the whole self-sacrifice card."

He hummed slightly, as if still disbelieving.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. What he does doesn't bother me. It's what _you_ do that does."

I heard him sigh, and he stopped brushing. I turned to look at him.

"How is your bruise?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "Healing."

I placed a hand on his t-shirt clad stomach and leaned toward him slightly. "You _need_ to be careful, Oliver. If not for your own health, _mine_. You're giving me a complex."

He barked a laugh. "Sorry," he said. He placed the brush back in my hand and shook his head at me slightly, still laughing.

I retracted my hand from his torso and leant back to lean against the wall. "Can't wait to see Flint's slimy face when we win on Saturday," I said, grinning.

Immediately, Oliver's eyes sparkled with mania. His Quidditch sparkle. "The whole bloody _team's _faces!"

I laughed with him.

He shook his wet hair out of his face and ran his hands through it, causing it to stick out at all angles.

I laughed at him and reached up to mess it even more.

He didn't half look sexy with bed hair.

In retaliation, he messed up my hair, no doubt re-tangling the knots he's just detangled.

I messed his hair with both hands this time, and he grabbed me around the waist and growled playfully. I laughed even more, struggling to be free.

After our laughter died down, I realised what predicament I was in. My face was inches from Oliver again, my arms around his neck, his shining, perfect chocolate eyes staring into mine.

I dragged my eyes from his, determined to control myself. I buried my face in the crook of his neck. That was safe ... right?"

I heard Oliver sigh, and he pulled me closer so that I was encased between the solid circle of his arms and his warm, glorious body.

Bliss.

"That keeps happening," he muttered into my hair.

"What does?" I squeaked, tensing up. I hoped he hadn't noticed.

"You can't keep eye-contact with me. I've noticed that recently. You always look away after about ten seconds."

I pulled away, glancing up at him. "Do I?" I asked, somewhat calmer after assuring myself that he hadn't noticed what I had been about to do.

He nodded, then took my chin gently, making me look up at him. "Try."

His eyes smouldered into mine. Those eyes must have been _made_ to undo me. My heart sped up, thumping in erratic rhythms as his smirk met his eyes. He was just too sexy.

I pulled away, my eyes sliding to the ground. I heard him sigh.

"See?"

"I can't help it."

"What do you mean?" he asked softly.

"Well," I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that I _was_ going to say what I was about to. "Your eyes are very difficult for me to look into. They're too pretty. They make my heart hurt – and I'm pretty sure that that's not healthy."

"Oh," he said softly. There was a moment's silence where I didn't have to look up to know that those eyes were staring at me.

Then came the laughter.

I glared at the floor until he was finished, my face burning in embarrassment ... or anger. I wasn't sure which.

His cool hand calmed my burning cheek. He was still chuckling when he slid closer to me on the bench. I wanted to hit him and run away. I trained my eyes on the ground at our feet.

"Too pretty?" he asked breathlessly. He moved his hand to my chin and his other to my shoulder. He trained my gaze to him. "Do you_ have_ a mirror, Kates? Too pretty is ... _you_. _You –_" he cut himself off, shaking his head and smiling wryly. At himself, or me, I wasn't sure.

He let go of my chin and leant back against the wall.

I forced myself to breathe again, my anger dissipated.

"I still think your eyes are too pretty."

He smirked at me, his eyes glinting. "Think that all you like. I know different."

I threw him a sceptical look. The he held his hand out. I looked at him oddly.

"What?"

"The brush. I messed up your hair again."

I rolled my eyes at him and handed over the brush. He turned me by the shoulders and began to work through my almost dry hair, his hands weaving through it after the brush.

Damn him to hell.

When he was finished, he placed the brush on the bench in from of me, then wrapped his arms securely around me before I had the chance to turn around.

"You aren't half silly, Bell," he said affectionately.

I realised quickly that there was no point in disputing this point.

He leant his chin on my shoulder, his arms warm around my waist, my hands atop his, holding him there.

"You know you're beautiful, don't you?" he murmured into my neck. My heart just about stopped. He kissed my exposed shoulder once, very lightly, his lips barely making contact. My stomach leaped.

"What?" I managed to squeak, tensing up instantaneously.

He chuckled. "I thought not," he said before pulling away and standing up. "C'mon. Best get some sleep. Practice at five tomorrow."

"You better mean five PM," I said, my voice wavering dangerously, rather than sounding threatening like I'd intended.

He grinned and winked, before taking off running out of the changing room door.

_Bastard_.

--


	15. Chapter 15

"We're not playing Slytherin!" Oliver exploded, looking completely furious. We all stared at him in disbelief. I fell down onto the bench, stunned. "Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead." He was frantic and furious all at once.

"Why?" we all asked at once.

"Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," he answered, grinding his teeth. "It's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances ..."

"There's _nothing wrong_ with Malfoy's arm!" Harry burst out unexpectedly. We all looked at him with poorly masked shock at his yelling. "He's faking it!"

"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Oliver, very bitterly. "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different." His eyes were beginning to bulge slightly, his face tinted red.

"I don't know why you're worried, Oliver. Hufflepuff are a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?" Fred said.

"We were playing them in completely different conditions!" Oliver burst out, his face positively puce. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin are trying to wrong-foot us! We _must_ win!"

"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. _Seriously!_"

--

"Kates." I was already awake when he sat on my bed at four in the morning. He spoke again in the same hushed tone. "I can't sleep."

I fluttered my eyes open to look at him. "Since when do you ever sleep the night before a match?" I asked softly, smirking lightly.

Saying he looked horrendous was a complete understatement. My smirk slipped off of my face as I took in his appearance. "Oh, Oliver. You're going to make yourself ill. When was the last time you ate?"

He glared down at me. "Enough of the lecture please. I get enough of that from my mother. I don't need it from you, too." The rudeness was back, and in full swing. I rolled my eyes.

"What do you want, Oliver?" I asked, sitting up, business-like.

"I was making myself crazy, talking to myself all night."

"I can see how that would happen, yes."

"Shut up," he muttered, running his hands through his hair.

"Well, which is it? Do you want me to keep you from going crazy, or shut up?"

He deliberated the question awkwardly for a second, before uttering, "Both."

I sighed and crossed my arms across my chest.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," he sighed. "I shouldn't have woken you if all I was going to do was offend you. I'll leave if you want."

I looked at him for a moment, before sighing. "No. Stay. I was awake anyway. I can't sleep either."

"This is _horrible_. Damn Flint to _hell_."

I placed a hand on his upper arm in comfort. "We'll be okay. We're a good Quidditch team, Oliver."

"Even the best teams can be caught off-guard."

I sighed, then pulled him into a hug, my arms wrapped around his neck. "Stop worrying." He said nothing.

"We really should try to sleep," I told him.

"You're right. I'll go back to my dorm," he said, pulling away.

"Why?" I asked in surprise.

He smirked slightly. "'Why?' Do you _want_ me to sleep with you, Kates?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Not like that. You know what I meant. What's the point in going back when we both know _neither_ of us will sleep if we're left on our own."

He sighed. "Fine. I suppose you're right."

"Oliver," I laughed, mock-sardonically. "I'm _always_ right."

He rolled his eyes at me, and in retaliation, pushed me over in the bed so he could lie down. I protested slightly to being pushed. He just looked at me impatiently and lay down next to me. It suddenly got very awkward, as we lay, shoulder to shoulder on my bed. We both stared up at the black canopy above us silently, not sure what to say.

Then Oliver sighed.

"What?" I asked in a whisper.

"The rain," he told me. Sure enough, when I listened, the rain was hammering at the dorm window.

"It's going to be a tough game."

"We'll get through it," I assured him.

"I'm terrified, Kates," he whispered, pained.

I turned to look at him. He did, indeed, look terrified. "Oh, Oliver," I uttered, pity heavy in my voice.

"I know. It's pathetic," he said roughly, fear turning into anger.

I took his hand firmly and sat up slightly to look at him straight on. "No," I told him firmly. "No, it isn't, Oliver. You have every right to be scared. Quidditch means so much to you, and if, in some bizarre circumstance, we _don't_ win tomorrow, it'll crush you. But please, Oliver, remember that we have every chance in winning. Hufflepuff have had as little notice as us, you know. I'll bet Diggory's terrified, too." I placed a hand comfortingly on his cheek. "So try not to be _too_ scared. And know that the whole team is behind you, and we'll do everything in our power to win that cup for you."

"For _us_," he said firmly.

I smiled down at him, and he smiled up at me, before he pulled me down into a hug, my head cradled against his chest. He kissed my hair lightly. "Thank you, Katie," he said softly.

I smiled into his chest as my eyes closed. "No problem, Oliver."

And I was asleep, cradled against Oliver Wood's chest, breathing in a scent which could only be described as bliss.

--

It was six-thirty by the time I resurfaced from my dreamless sleep. I vaguely realised that Oliver was in my bed, but refused to let my cheeks colour at the thought. I managed to look up at his face without disturbing him. His eyes were closed in sleep, his mouth pulled up in a contented smile. I smiled slightly. He looked very peaceful – something he didn't look too often while he is awake. Oliver seemed to constantly look on-edge and anxious – probably because he usually _was_. If it wasn't Quidditch worrying him (and it was an odd day when it wasn't,), it was homework, or ... well ... me. Though I've always maintained that it was always unnecessary.

I reached up carefully and brushed the hair back from his forehead, praying the action wouldn't wake him. It didn't. It was unusual that I had the time to stare at Oliver, because he always seemed to catch me. But in his sleep, I could stare all I liked. I _hoped_ that that didn't make me a total creep.

His honeyed hair had been messed up somehow through the night, so it now stuck up at all angles, making him look a bit like an anime character, but somehow it made him far more attractive than he already was. His blonde skin was tanned lightly from many days out in the sun over the summer, but the sun-kissed look was beginning to fade as the year progressed through autumn. His dark, long eyelashes fanned out across the apex of his hued cheeks, his eyelids obscuring his beautiful eyes I hated not seeing. His Aurelian mouth was still pulled up in a half-smile that would rival a marble Renaissance statue. He looked utterly ... irresistible.

I shook myself at the thought, wondering why it had occurred to me in such an awkward moment – when I was affixed to him in such an intimate manner.

"Katie?" His breathy voice jarred my thoughts contrastingly. I looked up with a start. "Katie," he said again, in greeting this time, his eyes opening blearily. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, then smiled at me slightly. "What time is it?"

Slightly thrown off by my strange thought process, I failed to meet the socially acceptable criteria of returning the smile. "Six forty-five," I said quietly, avoiding his eye. I heard him sigh heavily, his smile diminishing as he turned to look out of the murky grey window. Tumultuous slate clouds raged across the sky, bringing fierce winds and lashing rain which pulverised the soft earth of the grounds. I knew his thinking exactly before he even opened his mouth.

"This isn't going to be easy."

"No," I agreed, pulling away from the tight embrace. "But we'll get through it."

He took my hand, lacing his strong fingers through mine. "Yeah," he said softly. I looked up at him as he said honestly, "I know."

--

_Very sorry it took so long. My Grandparents haven't been very well, so I haven't been able to write for a long time. I'm not sure when I'll have a chance to write again, so ... let's just hope for soon, shall we?_

_If you have the time, and/or the decency ... review, please. _

C:

_xx_


	16. Chapter 16

Oliver walked beside me silently on the way down to the pitch. He hadn't bothered to don a cloak, so he was soaked through to the bone in about two seconds flat, what with the torrential, unrelenting downpour. He barely seemed to register that it was pelting his face. His eyes stared forward, his back stiff, his hair plastered to his head.

I remained equally silent and wrapped my cloak more tightly around me. The water had seeped through already, so the action was fruitless.

A few yards in front, the twins were making light of our situation, joking and splashing each other with mud, at which Alicia and Angelina laughed raucously and squealed. Harry avoided the mud when it came his way, smiling slightly at the twins' antics. Oliver seemed blind to the whole scene.

Gingerly, I took his freezing hand in my own, trying to bring him some comfort. He glanced down at me, his eyes distant. "You'll be okay," I told him over the howling wind and thundering of the rain on soft earth. He looked away without saying anything.

Eventually, we reached the stadium, sodden. We changed into our Gryffindor team robes virtually silently, then sat and awaited Oliver's pep talk. We watched as he paced in front of us. Six times, he stopped and opened his mouth, as if to speak, before gulping slightly and snapping his jaw shut again. Eventually he gave up, giving me a long look, before motioning towards the doors.

We followed him out of the doors, the crowd drowned out by the weather that just about blew us to the ground. We staggered across the pitch, brooms in hand, jaws set.

Oliver strode over to the centre of the pitch where Madame Hooch and Diggory were waiting. Hooch spoke to them for a moment, before Oliver and Diggory shook hands, stronger than was necessary, glaring at each other, then Hooch brought her whistle to her lips and blew. The pealing sound which it should have emitted was lost to a rumble of thunder and both teams kicked off.

--

Harry lay motionlessly on the pristine sheets of the Infirmary, mud-splattered and unconscious. The team and his friends surrounded him like a protective circle, all staring at his deathly-pale face.

"He is _seriously _lucky," Fred whispered.

"I know. If he didn't have his ridiculous luck, we wouldn't have a Seeker, and then Wood would have _definitely_ killed himself," George said, slightly awed.

"Lucky the ground was so soft," Angelina said in hushed tones.

"I thought he was dead for sure," Alicia said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"But he didn't even break his glasses," Fred laughed.

"That was the scariest thing I've seen in my life," Ronald, the twins' younger brother said. Hermione nodded, her eyes wide.

Then, Harry's eyes popped open.

"Harry! How're you feeling?" Fred asked, upon realising the Seeker was awake.

Harry ignored his question. "What happened?" he asked immediately. I was surprised that he could think so clearly. He'd just fallen a very long way.

"You fell off. Must've been – what – fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," Alicia whispered. Hermione emitted a small squeaking sound at Alicia's words.

"But the match. What happened? Are we having a replay?" Ah. The difficult part. We all glanced at each other nervously, unsure of who should tell him.

The look on his face was heartbreaking when he said, "We didn't – _lose_?"

"Diggory got the Snitch. Just after you fell. He didn't realise what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a re-match. But they won fair and square ... even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" Harry asked, worry settling into his features.

"Still in the showers," Fred told him. "We think he's trying to drown himself." I frowned at the collective. I hadn't thought that at all. And in a second, my eyes widened. I _should_ have. Oliver drowning himself was _plausible_.

Harry put his face in his hands and I fled the room, ignoring the looks I was receiving. I had to go back to the Pitch. I had to make sure he was okay.

--

My footsteps echoed hollowly in the empty locker room, my cloak dripping from the monsoon outside, making large dark patches on the grey stone floor as I walked. I could hear the distant sound of water running. He must still be in the shower – unless Fred was right, and he _had_ drowned himself. The thought propelled me, half-running to the male shower room.

There were seven cubicles, tiled in white, with a red curtain hanging in each, just like the female shower room. I glanced down the row to find that all the curtains were drawn back, and it seemed that all the showers were empty, except for the sound of water pouring onto tiles coming from the cubicle at the very end of the row. But there was no steam rising, like there should have been.

I stepped quietly towards the cubicle I was sure he was in, praying he hadn't done anything stupid. My heart ached at the mere thought. I peered around the tiled wall, and my heart ached even more.

Oliver was there, alright. On the floor, the water pouring onto his drenched team robes, his head ducked against the onslaught of the water. He had curled all his limbs into his body, as if he were trying to hold himself together. He looked utterly and unequivocally broken. I fell to my knees at the sight of his unmitigated pain.

Slowly, he lifted his head to meet my eyes, his expression consummately heart-rending. I could feel myself welling up, but I bit back, willing myself not to cry, knowing it wouldn't make anything better for him. I was lost for the words to make him feel even a fraction better – I didn't know what to do.

The spirit ... the tenacity in his eyes had been displaced by this ... deadness. The loss had hindered the Oliver-ness of him. The ambition ... the determination ... the grit – they had all disintegrated.

Those dead, flat eyes left my glassy ones to stare back down at his Quidditch boots, watching the water bounce off of them with vigour.

I reached out to him, but flinched back when my hand was doused in Arctic water.

"Shit, Oliver, you'll _freeze_!"

He said nothing as I took my wand out and halted the icy stream of water.

"Oliver, you could have gotten hypothermia." He still stayed quiet. I reached out and took his glaciated hand in mine, tears swimming in my eyes. His fingernails were completely blue.

"Oh, Oliver," I said, fighting the tears. "I'm so sorry." It didn't even seem like he'd heard me. "We will get though this," I battled on. "We cannot, and _will_ not give up. We're the best team in this school, and we'll prove that to everyone. We can't let one defeat beat us, Oliver." He remained dormant. "We don't give up," I said with more force, then I faltered. "_Please_ don't give up?" I whispered fervently, my tears falling as I stroked his hands with my thumbs – a vain attempt to warm him. His eyes flickered to mine once more, his expression tragic. "We need our Captain, Oliver. We can't do it without you – with means, no hypothermia for you, sonny," I said fiercely, more tears glissading down my cheeks.

His eyes searched mine, for the truth it seemed, for several moments, before he pulled gently on my hand. "Come here," he croaked, as if it had been years since he'd used his voice. He pulled me close to him, until I was sitting sideways on his lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, and I finally let myself sob, crying into his shoulder with fever. His hands stroked my back consolingly.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver," I told him between sobs.

"What for?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing perfect interlocking rings on the small of my back.

I pulled back, trying to control my sobs. Oliver wiped my tears away with his thumbs. "For crying, and for _losing_," I said, hiccoughing.

"The crying is no problem – you know that. As for the losing, well, that wasn't your fault." It looked as if his heart had broken all over again as he mulled over the loss once more. I placed a hand on his cheek and looked at him seriously.

"And you know that _no-one_ was to blame, don't you, Oliver? It was the Dementors. This was no-one's fault." He looked away from my eyes, and made no sign of agreement.

"I know it wasn't Harry's fault," he uttered.

I squinted at him slightly, not understanding his body language. Then the thought hit me. "You ... you don't blame _yourself_, do you?" I asked incredulously. He stared determinedly over my head. "Oliver! This _is not_ your fault!"

"I can't _help_ but feel like it is, Kates."

"That is _completely_ irrational. How could you have _possibly_ forecasted that Dementors would turn up? I can't believe you blame yourself for this!"

"I know ... I know." He leant his head back on the tiled wall of the shower. I placed both hands on his cheeks and made him look me in the eye.

"Oliver, you are not to blame, nor do any of us blame you. You shouldn't be putting yourself through this self-abuse."

He closed his eyes to me and sighed. Then, he frowned deeply. "I just feel like I've lost everything that mattered to me. It's like I've lost all my work at bettering myself. Because that's what Quidditch is to me – my chance to make it, and do what I love forever."

"Who needs to better themselves when they're already inordinately perfect as it is?" I asked softly, my hands still on the planes of his cheeks, my eyes searching his intently. He looked at me dubiously. "And I have no doubt in my mind that you'll make it. You are the best Keeper I have ever seen, and the most intense and dedicated player I'm likely to ever meet. National teams would kill to have you, Ol', and even the Internationals would fight to the death to secure you as a Starter."

"You think too much of me, Katie. I'm not as brilliant as you're making out."

"But you are!" I said passionately. "You just ask all the Chasers in this school! It's near _impossible_ to score against you, unless, like we three, they know you really well! I'm willing to bet even Davies would tell you that."

He still shook his head in disagreement. "I've lost my dream." His fingers clutched to the front of my clothes uselessly, like he was holding onto a life he knew he'd lost.

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his sodden hair. "Tell me what to say to make you see you haven't, Oliver."

"Tell me we won," he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. I held him closer as tears began to run down my cheeks again. "I'm an awful Captain," he told me.

"No you're not," I said seriously, sternly.

"If I'm not that, I'm an awful _person_, Katie. Harry just fell off his broom and currently is lying in the Hospital Wing, for all I know unconscious, or in a coma, or dead, and I'm sitting in a shower cubicle wallowing in self-pity. You guys deserve a better Captain than _me_." I pulled away and looked at him severely.

"I can't even _imagine_ a better Captain than you, Oliver. You're the most caring, and inspiring person I know. You are a wonderful Captain, and never say, or even _think_ that you aren't ever again," I forbade. "Harry is fine. He's awake. But he blames himself for what happened, and thinks that you're mad at him."

"I'm not," he shook his head ardently.

"_I_ know that, but Harry doesn't. You should go see him."

"I don't think I can face anyone right now, Kates," he said, his eyes begging for me to understand. I did. I nodded and lay my chin on his shoulder, my arms wrapped around him again.

"We need to get you out of those freezing robes before you catch your death, though. Do you have extra clothes in your locker?" He nodded and pulled out of the hug. I stood up and offered him a hand to help him up too. He took it and stood up next to me. It was only then that I realised how intimate as space we'd shared. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and stepped out of the cubicle, allowing him to go through into the locker room to change. He kissed me softly on the cheek as he passed.

"Thank you for coming here, Katie." I sent him a soft smile which he sort of returned, and he left the room.

--


	17. Chapter 17

Two weeks later, and Oliver had found the frantic spirit he'd had for Quidditch before the Hufflepuff game, but somehow it had magnified. After our twenty-third practice in fourteen days, Angelina, Alicia and I collapsed onto our beds. I ached _all_ over. Not one inch of me was free of pain. I couldn't even find the energy to speak. We lay soundlessly for a few moments longer, before Angelina groaned quietly. "He's trying to kill us. I'm sure of it," she said weakly. Just then, the twins stumbled through the door, looking half-asleep.

"He caught us," Fred said, sliding down the door-frame. George stumbled over and collapsed, face down, next to Alicia.

"He's a complete maniac," he moaned into Alicia's duvet.

"Kept telling us to smash Davies' face in."

"Sounds like he's quite lucid to me," Angelina muttered.

"They'd get a penalty shot if we did. That'd damage our chances. He's gone insane," Fred said in a final tone.

"He hasn't done that in a while – smash Davies' face in, I mean," George said thoughtfully, rolling over to look over at me. "Why is that?" The other three turned to me too, with visible difficulty.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Davies hasn't provoked him."

"Like Wood needs _provoked_ to kick Davies' ass," Fred laughed.

"All the boy needs to do is _breathe_ and he'd be on the floor," George laughed too.

"Oliver's distracted," Alicia said. "He's trying to kill us, masquerading it as Quidditch practice."

"Either that, or he's stopped because he knows it upsets you, Katie," Angelina added.

"Maybe," I said. "But I'm quite sure that Oliver doesn't really care if he upsets me."

"That's not true," Fred told me.

I shrugged and silence fell again as complete exhaustion took over.

--

"What did you say to Wood the day we lost, Kat?" Alicia asked, unlacing her Quidditch boots later, after the twins had left, finally finding the energy to do so. Angelina looked at me curiously, her eyes asking me the same question. I shuffled back on my bed so that my back rested on the oak headboard.

"It all sort of ... came out on its own. He looked so heartbroken. I had to say something that would bring back his faith in himself. I just told him the truth – that we were the best team at Hogwarts, and that he couldn't give up because we needed him. Why?" Alicia was looking at me strangely. "What?" I asked, confused.

She shook her head. "Nothing ... happened, did it, Kat? You'd tell us if something, err ... _intimate_ happened, wouldn't you?"

I frowned deeply. "Nothing happened."

"Well, sorry, but," she turned to Angelina, "don't you think something's different, too?" she asked of her.

Angelina nodded slowly. "Like they've gotten even closer?"

Alicia nodded, turning back to me. "It's odd, Kat."

I shrugged. Just then, a tapping noise rang through the room. We all looked toward the window.

Alicia opened the window, being closest to it, and a sodden barn owl flew in, skittering to a halt on my bedside table. It ruffled its feathers importantly, spraying water everywhere. I tugged the letter out of its pouch, petted it and gave it an owl treat in thanks. It hooted and took off out of the still-open window. Alicia shut it again.

"Who's it from?" Angelina asked curiously.

I looked down at the envelope in my hands, which read '_Katie' _in neat, boyish writing. My fingers found the wax seal on the back and I studied it before breaking it. It wasn't a stamp I recognised. I pulled the letter out and began reading.

_Katie,_

_Wood has been to see me – before you ask, no, we didn't fight. He was asking some odd questions about you, and also some about Diggory. I gleaned that he would go and see him next. I just thought you should know, in case Diggory isn't as cool about it as I was._

_I've also been thinking a lot – about your relationship with Wood. I know that I could never emulate who Wood is to you. He's clearly irreplaceable in your eyes. But I'd like you to know that I care about you. I know that there is ... notoriety, surrounding me. None of it is true, of course. I do as most teenage boys do – I boast about my effectuation and inveiglement to make me seem accomplished in my abilities with the female species, when I may not be as adept as I make out. _

_In actuality, I'm not the womanizing, philandering operator people portray me as. I have never once cheated on a girl. However, I'll be truthful with you – I do tire of females quite quickly, but only due to my own stupidity at choosing those I deem incredibly tiresome – those with simpering, sugary sweet voices, and who are obsessive over clothes and cosmetics. Succinctly, I choose the wrong girls, and, wrongly, they, in the past, have been made to pay for this defect in my personality. I came to realise this when I noted you this year, for you have grown more beautiful as each year passes, Katie. You are utterly astonishing. You made me realise that there is you – a girl who likes what I like, who is gritty, and irascible, and pulchritudinous, and fascinating. You made me realise that I don't need to play my part of the player – that I need you. For you are complete perfection, to me. _

_Of course, it would help if you felt the same way for me as I do, you. But we can't have everything._

_On another note, I'm very sorry for the loss your team endured earlier this month. If it's any consolation, you played brilliantly. You are the most graceful Chaser I've ever seen. I hope Potter is okay? That was some horrendous fall he took. And I hope Wood didn't take it too badly. I dared not bring it up when we spoke tonight for fear of sounding mocking. I really was sorry for the loss, and I feared he wouldn't believe that, due to my Captaincy of the Ravenclaw team. _

_Coincidentally, we are not on top form at all. I have sent the team back to the Ravenclaw tower half-way through practice at least a dozen times this month. It has been utterly pathetic. I just hope we improve before our match against Hufflepuff next month, or, I believe, Gryffindor will be out of the running for the Cup, and nobody wants that, bar the Slytherins. The rest of the school see your superiority, of course._

_Kind Regards and Sweet Thoughts,_

_Roger (that's 'Davies' in a scathing tone, as you've heard it so many times before pronounced that way,) x._

I passed Alicia the letter, my thoughts swirling in my head. He seemed ... genuine.

Alicia seemed to read my thoughts. "I think he's telling the truth, Katie."

I watched as Angelina read the letter. "He knows how to flatter, doesn't he?" she smirked, then frowned. "Ravenclaw aren't doing well?"

"That's hardly the most important part of the letter, Ange!" Alicia exclaimed. She snatched the letter back at picked out a quote. "'_But I'd like you to know that I care about you'." _she repeated significantly.

"That isn't the most important part, either," I told her sternly. "Oliver's been talking to Davies and Diggory about me. Why?"

They both shrugged. "Probably warding them off again," Angelina suggested.

"But they haven't been anywhere near me since Hallowe'en!" They shrugged again. I sighed. "I hope nothing happened between Oliver and Diggory. They both got really hurt last time." I glanced at the door, desperately wanting to go find them.

"I don't think you were supposed to know about him talking to them, Katie. It wouldn't be a good idea to go looking for them. It might give them cause to fight. You know how Davies and Diggory act around you – complete dogs. They can't hold their tongues," Angelina said calmly.

"But he might be hurt," I said, just above a whisper.

"That depends on what they're talking about. Why don't you write back to Davies, asking what Oliver said?" Angelina raid rationally.

I sighed and fumbled for a quill and a spare piece of parchment.

_Davies,_

_What did Oliver talk to you about? Is there a danger of a fight with Diggory? I'd like to know as soon as possible, so that I can intervene._

_I'll talk to you at a later date about the rest of your letter. I'm not sure how to phrase my feelings on those matters just yet._

_Katie._

"That's pretty clinical, don't you think, Katie?" Alicia noted, looking over my shoulder as I wrote.

"Yes. It is. It's meant to be." I folded the note and borrowed Angelina's owl and watched as it flew around to the east towards the Ravenclaw tower.

Within minutes, Angelina's owl was sent back, with another note from Davies.

_Katie,_

_He was asking about why I liked you. It was rather awkward, actually. I near enough had to tell him my deepest feelings for you for fear of getting punched. Again. He's quick to violence, that's one thing I've noticed. _

_I'm not sure of the likelihood of a fight between Wood and Diggory, if I'm honest. It rather depends on how Wood goes about asking his questions. I'd imagine Diggory would be quite calm, telling Wood exactly why he wants you. I, myself, found some grotesque pleasure in seeing his face twist as he willed himself not to floor me. It was entertaining – though I'm sorry it was._

_I'll look forward to hearing your feelings on the rest. I hope they aren't too negative. You don't strike me as a close-minded girl, Katie. I also hope that Wood and Diggory behave – for your sake only, you understand. I dislike very much to see you upset._

_Devoirs and Sweet Dreams,_

_Roger x._

I passed his note onto Alicia, and Angelina got up to read it over her shoulder.

"See?" Angelina told me. "No need to jump to rash conclusions. No immediate danger."

"He wasn't very specific, was he? About what they were talking about, I mean," Alicia asked, reading over the letter again.

I shook my head, sitting down on my bed and playing with the hem of the comforter absent-mindedly, staring into space, thinking.

I really wanted to go find him and ask. But Angelina was right. If I did, it might provoke something that might not have happened otherwise. I vaguely wondered what Roger's – _Davies_ – feelings for me were.

I stuttered in my thoughts. What had made me think 'Roger'?

"I'm going to go and sit in the Common Room and wait for him," I said quietly, shocked by my own thoughts. I quickly exited the room and flew down the stairs.

--

It was several hours before he appeared – well after midnight. I had sat on the couch close to the fire patiently, monitoring the door, and watching as the fire hushed. The portrait opened, and he stepped through, and immediately said, "You know, one of these days when I'm back late, you won't be here, and I'll probably have a heart attack and die." He was joking. I didn't look at him, but continued looking into the fire.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, my voice level.

"No." He said it honestly, and I finally looked round at him. There were no bruises or cuts on his face. I got up from my seat and scrutinized him further. He looked untouched ... and of course, my mind clicked onto the idea of perfection – which of course he was. I sighed internally and slapped my subconscious.

"Where were you?" I demanded haughtily. He smirked as I folded my arms across my chest.

"Kates," he said it softly ... purred it. I fought to keep my expression angry for fear of looking amatory. "You're not my mother. Stop acting like her."

"Tell me where you were, Oliver," I said dangerously.

"You already know, don't you?" he said in a slightly accusative tone.

"I'd like you to tell me," I told him.

He sighed. "I was talking to Diggory and Davies. But you knew that. Did Davies tell you?"

I carried on as if he'd said nothing. "What about?"

"It's private, Katie. Captain stuff." The lie was too quick out of his mouth. I narrowed my eyes, but he didn't waver. "I can't tell you."

"Come off it, Oliver. You were talking about me. Davies owled me and told me."

He exhaled angrily. "I thought as much. Good-for-nothing, waste of air..." he muttered to himself.

"Tell me why you were talking about me," I necessitated.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and stared at the gold chandelier above our heads. "I won't, Katie. Sorry."

I stared at him, aghast. "Why the hell not?"

"Because that _is_ private."

"But it's about me, Oliver. You can't just expect me to not want to know."

"I didn't expect you to not want to know. But I'm not telling you, regardless."

I stared, nonplussed. His heavy brow was set in a straight line across his dark eyes, his jaw obstinate.

Then, his face smoothing out, he stepped closer to me and dipped his face to mine. He brushed his lips lightly against my cheekbone, but instead of pulling away straight away, he lingered there for several moments, breathing deeply against the skin of my neck. Then, seeming to shake himself, he pulled away hurriedly. "Goodnight, Katie," he said as he crossed the room and ascended the boys' stairs, apparently to go to bed.

--

_We have a dilemma, my friends. Yes, indeed we do. An incontrovertible impasse, I'm afraid. I believe that there are very few fresh-faced authors who ship Katie and Oliver nowadays. We have been inundated with Katie/Fred and Katie/George shippers, and quite frankly, it's distressing. I look on those ships as incest. I'm completely unable to read them._

_So, I've had an idea. Those of you who are reading this who have yet to write a Katie/Oliver story, and even those who have, but haven't written for a while, I would very much like you to write down that idea that's been lurking in the back of your head for months. No matter how trivial the plot is, or how over-done, it's guaranteed that your take on the plot, and your writing style, will be different from the authors who have done it before you. _

_It would be even better if you've got an original idea, of course. But if you are inspired by someone else's work, remember to credit them!_

_Do it for the Katie/Oliver fans. We need you!_

_SaF xx_


	18. Chapter 18

"You know, Oliver, this intense training thing you're putting yourself through is insane," I told him firmly, my arms folded across my chest, hovering on my broom near the hoops, where Oliver was frantically trying to save every goal the magicked Quaffles tried to make. He ignored me resolutely, his face set, kicking one of the red balls half-way across the pitch. "Come inside, Wood. It's been hours." He ignored my words again, and punched another ball away from the gold hoop. I sighed, sagging on my broom slightly. He'd been up here for at least half a day. He hadn't eaten, he hadn't spoken, and he hadn't rested. His movements were beginning to grow sluggish, but his eyes were still determined.

I flew slightly closer to him, trying not to get struck by the charmed projectiles. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, confused. He had been just fine the day before. I thought he had gotten over the loss, but here he was – proof that I was very wrong. The twins had tipped me off – they had seen him out of one of the castle windows during detention. I was given the job by the rest of the team to stop him killing himself – something that I was resenting, and proving very difficult indeed.

I exhaled impatiently at the lack of response I received. I had had just about enough of this. I opened my mouth angrily to shout at him, ready to tell him how ludicrous he was being.

_*Thud* _then a sickening crunch.

Searing pain in my shoulder, and my hands slipped on my broom, causing me to perform an unexpected sloth roll. Oliver was immediately at my side, panicked and concerned. "Katie?" he asked, helping me to reseat myself. I couldn't respond. My shoulder was definitely dislocated, and incredibly painful. Why the _hell_ did he have the Bludgers out? "Can you make it to the ground?" I didn't answer, holding my arm to my side, my eyes closed in anguish. Oliver said no more. He lifted me, more deftly that he ought to have been able, onto his broom and held me with one arm against his stomach while directing us to the ground. My body was obviously too shocked by the injury to react to the proximity. As soon as we touched down, my head spun sickly. I clutched onto him, and he set me down on the grass, laying me back and kneeling next to me, dithering. "I'm so sorry, Katie. Are you okay?" He didn't look me in the eye as he spoke, for his eyes were raking over me, checking me for further injury. My arm, apparently, was both his and my prime concern. "It's dislocated," he told me, gently cradling my jumper-clad forearm. Finally, he looked me in the eyes. "I need to take you to the Infirmary, Kates. I'm sorry."

"No," I told him firmly. "No." I hated the Hospital, as he knew fine well. I barely ever agreed to go. Of the six times I had ever visited the infirmary for my own health, only once was in free will. I had been forced, by this very boy, to go, every other occasion. And I would not have it this time.

"Katie, be reasonable! Madame Pomfrey can fix you up far better than I can." He looked frantic.

"Please, just ..." I stared up at him with teary eyes, pleading. I could see his resolve wavering, and he looked down at my shoulder.

"I'll hurt you," he said sorrowfully.

"I don't care. Just do it. _Please_."

He looked at me for a moment longer, before taking hold of my upper arm, and pushing upward and in. The bone crunched, and a wave of nausea took over. I rolled onto the affected shoulder and curled my body into Oliver, clutching at him in agony. The pain was incredible, but just as quickly as it came, it soon ebbed to a steady throb, and I was able to look up at my medic. His arms surrounded me carefully and pulled me up into a half-sitting position, unable to do so myself because I was weak from the injury. I leant against him, and he let me, eyeing me worriedly. "You okay?"

I nodded, looking up at him with tears in my eyes.

"Kates," he said, harrowed, tormented by my pain. He gathered me up and cradled me carefully, intent on causing me no more harm. "I'm _so sorry_," he lamented.

"Moron," I said weakly, "Stop apologising. I _asked_ you to do it."

"It was my fault it happened in the first place," he reminded me.

"That's true," I said, a little ruthlessly to his ears, but I was joking to my own. "Keep apologising."

He looked at me, remorseful. "I'm so s-"

"Oh, Oliver, shut up," I told him, burying my face in his shirt. "I was joking."

He fell silent, but he still hesitated over me, unsure.

"I'm fine," I told him, sensing his vacillation. "Just let me sit for a minute." Truth be told, I wasn't exactly fine. My stomach still lurched at the thought of that crunch, and my shoulder still indignant to its abuse. But I thought it better to lie than leave him uncomfortable. "Why wouldn't you answer me?" I asked, referring to my earlier ire.

I felt him shrug, apparently convinced that I was, indeed, alright. I looked up at him gingerly, and upon seeing his frown, I asked, "Why were you doing it, anyway? What's made you so ... frenetic?"

He shook his head infinitesimally. "I don't know," his brow still knitted into a severe frown. He looked up at the hoops, craning his neck to see them, for we were sitting so close. "I just ... I feel ..." He struggled for a few more moments, then gave up.

"I don't understand why you don't believe me when I say that you're a brilliant player, Oliver," I said, shaking my head sadly.

"If I were such a brilliant player, we would have won that match," he said roughly.

"But you're _human_. Well ... technically not _all_ human. You are a wizard after all. But physically, a human. There's only so much you can do to win. And you did everything in your power to win that match. What happened to Harry was out of your control."

"Yeah ... yeah, I know. I know." He sighed and looked up at the sky. "I'm just ... worried."

"I know, Oliver. But you can't keep putting yourself through this torment. It's not healthy."

He didn't say anything, and I let him be. He drew me closer to him as he sat back on his feet.

"It's cold out here. Did you notice that?" I jested, noting his lack of cloak or jumper.

He laughed a little. "Well, I was playing Quidditch, Kates. It wasn't cold until I stopped moving."

"Well, _I'm_ cold," I muttered.

"Sorry," he told me.

"It's okay. Better cold than worrying about you all night."

"Do you do that often? Worry about me?"

I looked up at him. "More often than I should, probably." His lips pulled into a half-smirk.

"Yeah, I worry about you too often, too."

"What have you got to worry about me about?"

"Davies and Diggory."

I rolled my eyes. "They're _no_ danger to me what-so–"

"Katie, let me decide whether they're a danger to you, from a males perspective, will you?" he cut across me impatiently. "What do _I_ worry you about?"

"Well, mostly you, killing yourself inopportunely."

He laughed. "I won't kill myself, Kates."

"Hmm," I murmured sceptically. "Yeah, freezing cold showers? Throwing yourself into every fight available? Quaffle abuse?" I reminded him tetchily.

"_Quaffle_ abuse?!" he exploded, hooting in laughter. "Quaffle abuse!"

"Shut up," I said, smiling into his Puddlemere shirt. He chuckled a little. "So, what now?"

"Katie, I'd still like to take you to Madame Pomfrey. I want her to check you over ... please. For my peace of mind, if nothing else." He said it softly, enticingly.

And I hated him for having such power over me as I said, "Fine." Swiftly, and again, more swiftly than he should have been able, he was on his feet with me in his arms, bridal. "Oliver," I said, a little alarmed. "I _can_ walk."

"I don't care if you can or can't, Kates. I'm carrying you," he told me confidently, grinning cockily.

"Oliver ..." I said, warning.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'.

"I swear to Merlin, Ol', if you don't put me down ..." We were halfway across the field already, his long strides unstinted by my apparently insignificant weight. And I _wasn't_ light. Quidditch did cause muscle mass. I wasn't as featherweight as he was making out.

He ignored me resolutely, smiling as he carried me effortlessly.

I sighed heavily and crossed my arms transversely over my chest. "You are so insufferable."

He grinned superciliously, unabashed.

--

Madame Pomfrey checked me over, Oliver holding my hand the whole time. Apparently, I was fine, but she told me not to play Quidditch for at least two days as a precautionary, to which I laughed. Oliver looked distraught and attempted to wheedle it down to one day. He received only offence in return. I grinned as he and I walked out of the Infirmary.

"So ... no Quidditch for _two whole days_. Still content with your decision to take me to Pomfrey, Ol'?"

He struggled, then said, "Yes. You'll heal better if we adhere to her advice. Better to have you out for two days, than for you to have a longstanding injury and end up not having you at all."

I raised my eyebrows at his rationality. "Since when did you _ever_ agree to a sit-out?"

"Since it's you," he said nonchalantly, looking away. I let out a gust of air, jarred. Was he serious with this absurdity? "Come on. You should get to bed and rest. Your body's put up with a lot in the last wee while. You need to let it recover." He took my hand, and our pace quickened. As we walked, I revelled in the fact that Oliver prized me so much that he, at the expense of his love of Quidditch, would go to such extremes as allow me two days of training to keep me on the team. It was ... impossible to comprehend.

We entered the Gryffindor Common Room silently, and Oliver walked me to the foot of the girls' stairs. "Night," he said, smiling softly. He pulled me close and kissed my hair delicately.

"Night," I replied as he pulled away, looking down at me tenderly. I pulled away with a soft smile and began ascending the stairs. I was about halfway up when he called after me.

"Sleep well, love," he said, his voice hushed. I glanced around at him, reddened.

"You too," I said, quickly climbing the rest of the flight, for fear of him noting my colour. I could hear him laughing subtly as I reached my door. I hit my head against it.

_Damn._

--

_Our problem still stands. I want to see some new stories up. I can't see any at all._

_If I'm wrong, PM me. But otherwise, get your arses in gear._

_; ) xx_


	19. Chapter 19

"I _cannot believe_ he's letting you sit out!" Angelina exclaimed indignantly. "Fred broke his arm! He _broke_ his arm, and Oliver still forced him to play, his beater bat practically _taped_ to his cast!"

"It's hardly surprising, Ange. It's _Katie, _remember. Oliver's always going to let her sit out if she's injured, because she's his precious little flower that he'll allow no harm to come to." Alicia was slightly malicious with her words, and I was stung, but I kept quiet, continuing to walk down to the pitch, my eyes straight ahead.

"It's not fair," Angelina bemoaned.

"Babe, it's Wood's decision at the end of the day. If he wants her to sit out, then that's the way it's going to be. It's his fault she has to, after all. Plus, I didn't mind playing with my cast on. It was sort of fun. I didn't really need a Beater's bat. I could just hit the Bludgers with my arm," Fred said, grinning, demonstrating by throwing his arm around as if it were ten times the size.

"Are you alright, Kat?" George asked quietly as the girls laughed at Fred acting like an idiot. His eyes searched mine intently for a moment, as I didn't answer, then he said, "Don't listen to them. They're just sore that if it were them, they would have to play."

"Then is that alright?" I snapped, quiet. "For me to get special treatment from Oliver?"

"Pet, it isn't your fault how Wood feels about you. Plus, it's under Pomfrey's advisement. He would be crazy to go against her judgement."

I nodded, still ambivalent about it.

"Are you still sore?" he asked. I nodded slightly.

"I can't rotate my shoulder because of the swelling."

"Then it's for your health, Katie. Don't listen to those two." He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, then ran to catch up with his brother, and began 'cast' sword fighting.

--

I wrapped my cloak closer around me as the November cold nipped at my skin. It was beginning to get dark, and the team had been practicing for hours. Angelina and Alicia had been throwing me furtive looks every time Oliver had told them to do something differently, or mentioned my name, or, so it seemed, for no particular reason at all.

I watched as Oliver lunged to make a particularly spectacular save, his robes billowing out behind him in the breeze, his shirt riding up to expose a little skin of his stomach. I hurriedly looked away before my cheeks coloured. It was getting ridiculous, how I reacted to him. Every little thing he did, I flushed. I supposed it was the pet name he'd given me the other night. 'Love'. A simple word, with so many connotations that I'd like to believe Oliver meant, but knew deep down that he didn't.

I leaned back on the bleachers and closed my eyes for a moment as the pain of yesterday's injury washed through me. I should have asked Pomfrey for a pain relieving potion. It really was sore. I knew it would pass, but I was unsure about it passing in two days. I couldn't ask Oliver to let me sit out for longer, so I supposed I'd have to endure it. I'd also have to endure the girls being so snippy with me – which I resented, wholly. It isn't up to me what Oliver does.

I heard a clattering on the bleachers a little away from me, and I looked up, startled. Oliver grinned at my shocked face.

"Did you fall asleep?" he asked, clearly amused.

"No," I defended, pulling my cloak around me more tightly.

He set his broom down and leant on the bleacher next to me. "How are you?" he asked, as if he hadn't done so at least twenty times already.

"I'm fine, Oliver," I said, a little impatient.

"Are you cold?" he continued, noticing my huddling for warmth. I didn't answer him, for fear of sounding too sarcastic for the situation. He shook off his team robes and draped them over me, pulling them tight around me, and rubbing my arms slightly. "There. Better?" I nodded, my brain a little fuzzy from the scent that he'd just doused me in. It was that completely comforting smell that was completely Oliver. "Good," he said, satisfied, resting beside me again. After a few moments silence, he spoke again. "Angelina and Alicia are irritated with us, I think."

I barked a sarcastic laugh, unable to stop it. "Yes, I believe they are."

"Sorry, Kates. It seems I can't do much right for the greater good, after all." I didn't answer, and he looked at me, cautiously. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oliver, stop asking. I'm fine."

"I don't mean your arm," he said quietly. "Are _you_ okay?"

I looked up at him in surprise. "Yes," I said, mystified as to why he was asking. I hadn't realised that Oliver could pick up on my mood so easily.

He continued to look at me critically then said, just as quiet, "Come here." He took my hand and pulled me into a hug. "If it's about Angelina and Alicia, forget about it. It's my team, and I decide what happens on it. I'll tell them they can bother me about it, if they have to." I smiled a little. He'd only picked up on half the reason, which I was incredibly glad about. The other reason for my seemingly peculiar mood was altogether quite different from the aggravated girls. And that reason was wrapping me in his warm, toned arms.

I'd pondered too often on how I felt for Oliver Wood, and I'd never come up with a credible answer to my true feelings – and I probably never would. I didn't understand my emotional draw to him, nor could I explain why my heart thundered whenever he touched me, or why my complexion grew so sanguine when our eyes met. All I knew was I'd never be able to let go of him. He was too important.

He pulled away from me, his eyes set past me. Then I heard a creak on the bleachers. Oliver's eyes hardened and I turned around.

"Hey Katie, Wood." It was Cedric, looking more than a little cautious. His eyes didn't leave mine as he addressed Oliver.

"Hey," I said, bewildered as to why he was here.

"Katie, could I speak with you for a minute?" His eyes glanced to Oliver, then back to me.

I looked back at Oliver. His eyes were still dark, his brow set in a concerned line.

"Em ... sure," I said. Oliver's protective hands fell away from my waist and I stood up. I followed Cedric down the steps silently, not looking back at Oliver.

We reached the bottom and Cedric turned to look at me, his eyes still odd. "Katie," he said quietly, glancing up the stairs we'd just descended. "It's about Wood."

My eyebrows snapped into a confused frown. "What about him?"

With his eyes still fixed to the top of the stairs, he said, "I heard him talking about ..." He hesitated, glancing back at me. Then, his face set, he said, "I heard him talking about you, Katie."

The frown deepened. "Eh ... pardon me for asking, Cedric, but why should that concern me? And why does it concern _you_ so much?"

"Because ..." he struggled, then sighed. "Look, Katie, I'll be blunt. He was talking to McGonagall about dropping you from the team. I heard it with my own ears."

I barked a laugh, my forehead smoothing instantly. "You must have heard wrong. Oliver would never do that to me."

"But Katie –" I cut him off, holding my hand up to halt his words.

"Oliver wouldn't do it. Goodnight, Diggory."

"But –"

"_Goodnight_," I said, a little sharply. His amber eyes met mine briefly, stonily.

"Ask Davies. He heard it too."

"Sorry," I said sarcastically, "But since when did I begin to listen to you two pathetic cases? Need I remind you that you pestered me for the majority of this year, and that Davies still _does_? You've got to be kidding me. Like I would believe a word that you two say. All I've had from you is a barrage of lies." His eyes darkened further.

"Well," he said roughly. Not like his usual caramel voice at all. "You'll see, I suppose, Bell. And you'll be sorry you didn't listen to the two 'pathetic cases', as you've so appropriately named us."

"You know, I must be mistaken. I'm _sure_ I said goodnight to you, and yet, here you still are, that bilge still flowing out of your mouth as if I'd never attempted to stop it. _Goodnight_." The venom in my voice twined with every syllable.

He bowed his head politely, if not too polite in response to my behaviour, then he stalked off, his shoulders set uncomfortably. I watched him walk away on the blackening lawns of the Hogwarts grounds, still fuming at the audacity of it all. Oliver would _never_ drop me from the team. I had thought Cedric really had stopped all of this, and yet I was apparently wrong, as he was still trying to drive a wedge between Oliver and me.

--

"Is he _sure_ he heard Oliver _explicitly_ say he was going to kick you off the team?"

I sighed and sunk further into the Common Room armchair I was occupying. I looked over at the redheaded twins who were staring at me, stunned, after what I'd just told them. "I didn't let him speak long enough for him to tell me _explicitly_ what they heard, George."

"Do you think that Wood ... _will_?"

I stared at Fred. "Well, I _hope_ not!" Fred and George exchanged wary looks. "Has he been talking to you two about it?" I asked shrilly.

"No! No. Katie, we'd tell you if he did, love. Believe us," Fred said soothingly, trying to calm me down. "But ... well ..." He looked to his brother to finish.

"He's been ... odd, lately. With you, I mean. Don't you think?"

"What do you mean? About my shoulder?" I asked, perplexed.

They exchanged another look. I thought I saw Fred roll his eyes before he said, "Yeah. About your arm. I don't think he's sure whether you'll be recovered properly for practice tomorrow. He's worried in case you're not properly trained for the match against Ravenclaw next month."

I frowned. "I know all the plays off by heart," I said, still confused.

"He doesn't want you more injured than you already are, pet. He's trying to look after you."

"So ... he has spoken to you about it," I said, deflated.

"He wasn't talking about kicking you off the _team_, babe. Just about putting you on the bench for a game."

I stared at Fred, feeling my blood boil beneath my skin. "You're_ kidding _me! No way in _hell_ am I missing a chance to kick Davies' ass!"

They both smirked wryly. "Ah, that's what I like to hear, Kat. I _love_ a girl with a bit of fire!" Fred clapped me on the shoulder – thankfully, my _other_ shoulder, or I'd have been in excruciating pain.

"Me too, bro. Me too," George agreed, ruffling my hair lightly and grinning at me.

"Well, that's dangerous. Looking for girls with fire when you two are usually surrounded, and/or _covered_ in explosives." I smirked at them, pleased with myself as they burst out into laughter.

"That's very true, brother. We should probably renew our search," George said thoughtfully, laughter still dancing in his eyes.

"Yeah. To girls with fire _extinguishers_."

"I can see the lonely hearts ad now," George roared, folding over in hysterics. Fred followed suit.

After the laughter fizzled out, I looked at them seriously again. "But ... Oliver spoke to McGonagall first ... before me? Why would he do that?"

Fred shrugged. "No idea. Probably to ask for advice."

"Surely he should have asked _me_. It is, after all, my shoulder."

"Wood's mind works in mysterious ways," George said, giving his brother a significant look I didn't understand the context of.

"I guess I'm going to have to apologise to Diggory, then ..."

Fred and George smirked at me. "If you think you owe him that, sure." I rolled my eyes at Fred and looked at George.

"You guys should have told me about Oliver benching me. You know that, right?"

The twins struggled a bit, then George said, "Katie, sweetheart ... some things that Oliver tells us, we _couldn't_ tell you. He ... he needs to talk to us sometimes about things that he wouldn't be comfortable with you knowing, so we tend to just take everything that Wood tells us clandestinely."

I frowned. "What does Oliver tell you that's so secret?" I asked curiously.

Fred and George both smiled serenely and didn't answer.

--


	20. Chapter 20

_Hey. I'm sorry. I haven't written in a long time, and I've got a really good reason for that – bereavement in the family. September wasn't a good month._

_So anyway, here I am, four months late for this update. Sorry for the wait, loves._

I didn't bother knocking Oliver's dormitory door the next day as I pushed it aside roughly, taking in his relaxed form at the desk in the corner. I threw myself down on his bed and fixed him with my best belligerent glare. He turned to me after a few moments, after he had scribbled down whatever notes he was making in his play book, with a composed expression. This ruffled me more, and I glared harder.

He fought hard to keep a smile off of his face. He was _laughing_ at my glare? Was I really _that_ pathetic? "What the hell are you laughing at?" I snarled, my face scrunching up unconsciously. His eyebrows shot up at my tone, his face frozen, mid-smile. "Well?" I challenged. He frowned deeply, his smile gone in an instant.

"Katie, what's wrong?" I continued my sterile, heated glare, my face twisting horribly at his question.

"I was _wondering_ if you could perhaps _explain _something to me, Wood," I spat, my glare intensifying.

Okay. I was taking it too far. It was his fault. He laughed. It riled me even more. This was his fault.

His frowned deepened, waiting for me to continue with, "Well, I was wondering how you became such a _bloody__ obliquitous__, backhanded, pretentious_ –"

"Katie?" he cut in, wounded.

"You call me your _friend_, and –"

"Katie, _what_ are you –?"he cut in confusedly. I cut back over him.

"Been _chatting_ to McGonagall lately, Wood?" I adjudicated angrily, my hands balling into fists.

All of a sudden, Oliver's face went blank. I tried to push the bubble of fear that lodged itself in my throat back to where it had originated in my stomach. He wasn't denying it. _He_ _wasn't denying it_. I felt sick.

"Well?" I pressed, my voice sounding stronger than I felt.

"Yes," he said, his emotionless eyes meeting my furious ones.

"So, what's the verdict, then?" I barked ruthlessly. "I mean, after all, it is _my shoulder_. Perhaps, _maybe, _I should have been consulted on the state of said body part. But, if you want to go _behind my back_ and talk about me to _McGonagall_, within earshot of _Davies_ and _Diggory_, no less, then that's just _fine,_ Oliver Wood. That's just fine. Consider this my resignation from your bloody team, before you kick me off it!"

It was too far, and I knew it. I'd never had huge problems with my temper before now. Maybe this had bothered me more than I had let myself believe. I flew for the door, irrational tears in my eyes, but before I could grab the doorframe to hurl myself out into the hallway, Oliver gently captured my wrist in his hand.

"Wait," he said, low-toned. An inadvertent snarl ripped from my throat as I tried to tear my arm away from his fingers. With his other hand, he swung the door shut, and took my other wrist in his grasp. "Katie, let me explain."

"Let me go," I bit, trying to pull my wrists free, twisting them, and trying to scrabble at him with my nails, so that I could complete my 'storm-out'.

"I went to McGonagall to ask her advice, Katie. I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't hurt yourself more, forcing yourself to play even though you're still in pain. I was trying to be tactical about it, since you were getting so irritated with me asking you about it every time I saw you."

I faltered, very slightly.

"Obviously, I failed in the tactical thing, considering I was overheard. Now I've upset you in a _different_ way. And I really, really regret that. I'm sorry, Kates. I didn't mean to upset you like this. I should have spoken to you about it."

It was a sufficient excuse, I supposed, and a fair apology. I sighed internally. Oliver was far too good at apologising.

"Let me go," I said quietly, much calmer. His eyebrows oblique, unsure of whether I was still going to run or not. He debated internally for a moment, then he slowly let my wrists go, still eyeing me unsurely. I stepped back from him, my arms crossing over my chest. "Are you going to bench me, or not, Oliver?" I asked, still a touch irate.

He studied me for a moment, obviously weighing something in his mind. Then he said carefully, "Let me take you back to Madame Pomfrey and she can look you over again. If she thinks you're okay, then I'd love you to come back, Katie. That is, if you still want to? But if it'll stunt the healing process in _any way_, then ... well, we'll see."

My eyes narrowed. "Two hospital trips in one week?"

He smiled kindly. "I'll go with you."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I looked away, biting my lip.

Oliver ducked his head, trying to catch my eyes, his concerned. "What?"

I shook my head.

"I just ... I don't know. I don't like the fact that Davies and Diggory always seem to tell me the truth, and you, well ... don't," I said uncomfortably, avoiding his questioning gaze.

He didn't say anything for a long moment, as if processing my words. I looked up at him. He was frowning again, looking down. He took a deep breath, and then said, "Kates, sometimes the truth hurts."

"Then let it hurt," I insisted quietly. "I'd rather know whatever you choose to hide from me – especially if it's an attempt to protect me."

"I only want what's best for you," he said solicitously, his voice restricted, as if holding back what he really wanted to say.

"I know," I agreed. "But sometimes that's not for you to decide." I tried to meet his gaze, but he kept it trained on the ground. "Oliver, you protect me as if I'm a child, and I don't want that sort of protection from you. I want you to respect my decisions, even if you don't like them. And if I make the wrong ones, so what? I get hurt, I learn, and it's my fault. It will never be yours. All I want is for you to be there if I _do_ make mistakes."

His eyes finally met mine, and he held contact for a long moment. "Kates, I ... I love you _far_ too much to be able to watch you get hurt. And if I could have prevented it ..."

I stepped closer to him and reached up to place a hand on his cheek. "I need to grow up some time or another, Ollie."

He sighed. "I wish you didn't." Then he laughed, and I joined him. I stroked his hair tenderly, watching as humour danced in his eyes. I feared that my eyes were becoming glassy from the close contact. I dropped my hand, but he snatched it before it could return to my side, grasping it in his hand. "I hear you, though, Katie. And I understand. I'll try, okay?"

I smiled at him widely, throwing my arms around his neck. "It's all I've ever asked for and more!" I mocked. He laughed into my shoulder, his arms encircling my waist and pulling me closer. "Thank you," I said, more seriously. He kissed my hair for a long while as he pulled away.

"Want to help me think of plays?" he asked excitedly, glancing over at his abandoned play book. What Oliver doesn't realise is that _normal_ people don't get even half as excited about sitting staring at dots and crosses for hours on end.

I stared at him for a long moment, unsure if he was being serious. When I realised he was, I burst out into fits of laughter, then I left.

"Katie?" he asked, confused, staring after me. I laughed down the hallway. "Katie!"

--

"I owe you an apology," I said briskly later that afternoon after I sat down next to Diggory in the library. Thankfully, he'd sat at the farthest table from Madame Pince's desk, so we could talk almost normally.

He turned his caramel eyes on me and frowned. "He didn't kick you off the team, did he?"

I shook my head, placing my bag down at my feet. "No. It was a misunderstanding in the first place. He was thinking about benching me, but just for the Ravenclaw game, until my shoulder completely healed."

"Oh," he said, frowning even more deeply.

"But in theory, you were right, so thank you. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, and I take back all those horrible things I said about you and Davies. It wasn't fair of me. I don't think you're pathetic."

He smiled, flashing his newly reinstated pearly grin. "Thanks."

"I, err ... I presume you told Davies what I said?" He nodded, his eyes regretful. "I should probably apologise to him, too. Do you know where he might be?"

"Hmm," he said in his smoothest honey tone. "I would say either the Ravenclaw tower, or out by the Lake."

"The Lake?" I asked, surprised.

Cedric nodded. "Yeah. I see him out there a lot, just staring out at the water."

I raised my eyebrows at this. I never pegged Roger Davies to be the introspective, poetic type. Of course, I supposed there had to be a reason why he was sorted into Ravenclaw. He must be super-smart too. I'd never really thought about it before.

"He's a good guy, Katie," Cedric said, interrupting my thoughts. I looked up at him, startled. "You wouldn't expect it, but he is. All this courting rubbish brings out the worst in him, as it did in me. Now that the rivalry's gone between us, I get on quite well with him."

"You're friends with Davies?" I asked in surprise.

He nodded. "He's a good laugh. Plus, I don't much like having rivals, Katie. It isn't in my nature at all."

"So what about Oliver?"

Cedric half-smirked. "Oliver wasn't my rival. Or at least, he never admitted he was while I soliciting you." He smirked fully, apparently unable to help himself.

"But he's a good guy too. You and Oliver could be friends, if you can be friends with Davies."

Cedric looked at me doubtfully. "Do you honestly think Oliver would want to be friends with me?"

"At least _civil_."

"Roger and Oliver are very different people. With Roger, he's easy to be friends with. Oliver is much more difficult."

"I don't find it hard."

He smiled at me. "Go find Roger, Katie. And talk to him for a while. You'll see what I mean."

I eyed Cedric for a while, his eyes insistent. Something was going on.

"There aren't any double motives here, are there, Cedric?" He shook his head. I watched him carefully, trying to see a flicker of some concealed incentive, but detected none. "Okay ... well ... sorry again, Cedric. And I'll see you around?" He smiled, and bid me goodbye, kissing me on the cheek for good measure. I rolled my eyes at him and left the library. It was time to apologise for a second time, and try to figure out what the hell Cedric meant by 'you'll see what I mean'.

--


	21. Chapter 21

My feet crunched on the partly frozen grass as I made my way across the pale landscape that was the Hogwarts grounds. It was morning, and a cold one at that. My breath created a white haze for me to squint through, searching for my objective.

I shivered in the Scottish aurora, pulling my cloak more tightly closed and wrapping my arms around myself in a futile attempt to keep warm. It was late November, and though it wasn't raining, Mother Nature was sure letting us know it.

I scoured the scene before me for a dark blot, marking my target, but I found none. I shivered again, and almost turned back to retreat back into the warmth that was the Hogwarts castle, but stopped, distinguishing a blemish on the opaque scene. There was a person sitting under the old oak tree by the Lake, huddled into the trunk away from the officious cold. If I hadn't been searching, I wouldn't have seen him.

My feet carried me of their own accord, across the lawn. The figure didn't look up at my approach, apparently too lost in thought to think anything of the obvious footsteps.

I stood a metre away from Roger Davies, wondering over his sanity. Did he not feel the cold? How could he sit on the frost like that?

I scrutinized further. His brow was pulled down into a frown, his eyes dark, staring out at the lake cerebrally, as if weighing something in his mind. He too, had his cloak pulled around him as tight as he could, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around them, like a child would sit.

He still hadn't realised my presence, or my blatant staring. I cleared my throat.

He looked up, startled from his thoughts. His eyes focused on me, and he let down his curled up stance, relaxing slightly. "Katie?" he said, with a little questioning. "What are you doing out here so early?" It was seven o'clock on a Saturday, so we were alone on the grounds.

I wasn't sure how to answer without flirting with disaster, so I shrugged, and instead diverted the questions onto him. "Aren't you cold?"

He studied me for a moment, his dark blue eyes keeping contact with mine. Finally, he answered, "I've been warmer." Then he turned his eyes back to the Lake, his face set oddly.

I stayed silent, trying to make sense of his expression, but I couldn't. I stepped a little closer to him. "Why do you sit out here in the cold?" I asked eventually.

"For time. For stoicism. For consonance." I blinked. He looked up at my dazed face, and smiled. "Why do you stand out here in the cold?" he asked me gently, for the second time. I couldn't evade it twice.

"I came to apologise for what I said about you and Cedric," I said in a rush, looking down at my feet. "I didn't mean any of it, and I'm sorry. You were both right about Wood going to McGonagall, and I should have believed you."

"You had every right not to believe us, Katie. After all, he's your friend, and we are not. It's natural that you trusted him precursory to us."

"But I shouldn't have."

"Has he kicked you off his team?" he asked calmly. I shook my head 'no', without looking at him. "Then how were we right?"

"He went to McGonagall, talking about my suspension from the team throughout training for the Ravenclaw match, and of course the match itself."

"Then I regret telling you," he said, a smile in his voice.

My eyes snapped to his, provoked. "How so?" I said, with a little fire.

"With your suspension, we could have won," he said placidly, unperturbed by my agitation.

My brow snapped into a frown, distrusting his compliment.

"You're his best Chaser, Katie. And I say that from a rival Chaser's viewpoint. You are skilled, and agile, and effortless." He seemed serious, and I blushed despite myself. "And you make it completely impossible to concentrate." He was serious again, and I fought not to smile.

I knew what was happening, but I couldn't even begin to stop it. I was being charmed by Roger Davies.

He smouldered at me for a moment, as I stood there, awkward. "Katie, can I ask you a question?"

My doe eyes met his, and I nodded, inviting him to ask.

"Why don't you trust me?"

I let out a cough of laughter before I could stop it. "Well," I began, "You don't exactly have the greatest history for telling the truth, Davies."

He half smiled, and shook his head slightly. "You mean my past relationships?"

"If that's what you want to call them. I would have thought you would go for 'conquests'."

He laughed and shook his head. "Yes. That's probably a better name for them."

"You're a player, Davies. What you did to those girls was callous, and unfair." I revelled in that I escaped his charms.

He leaned back against the tree trunk, and looked up at me thoughtfully. After a long moment, he said, "I never two-timed any of them. I never forced them to do anything they didn't want to. I never broke up with any of them without good reason. What exactly makes me so callous and unfair?"

"You finished with one, and found another without any sort of gap in between. It's called a compassionate gap, Davies. Your lack of gap just shows that you didn't care at all about any of them."

"And I didn't."

"So why should I trust you?" I shot at him angrily.

"Because I _do_ care about you," he shot back, losing his cool for an iota. He rolled his eyes up and closed them, turning his body away from me to face the Lake. His face scrunched in chagrin, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. With his eyes still closed, he said, "You're different, Katie."

I shook my head at him, though I knew he couldn't see. "I don't believe you think that. And I don't believe you have real feelings for me, Davies."

"Yes, I can see that. And I'll probably never convince you of it."

"So why waste your time?"

"Because I can't get you out of my head," he grumbled.

"Oh, for Merlin's _sake_!" I exclaimed. He rolled his eyes up to me darkly. "Find someone else to mess around with, because I am _so sick_ of this!"

"You'd know if you were being played, Katie," he said ominously.

"Oh, I'm sure. I'm sure that all those girls were _so aware_ of what was going on when you were charming your way into their pants." His eyes flared, and he stood up, his cool, obviously, burned off.

"It's funny, that," he said, sarcastic, angry humour weighing heavily in his voice. "That 'charming your way into their pants'. Quite amusing."

"How so?" I spat.

"Well, considering I've never _had_ sex with any one of those girls, nor any other for that matter, I find it quite entertaining."

I faltered slightly, looking into his dead serious eyes. "I don't believe you," I said, a little unsure.

"That seems to be a theme," he growled, turning his back on me.

"You're a virgin?" I asked in disbelief. He let out a disgusted sound. "_You_ are a virgin?"

"_Yes_," he snarled.

I stayed silent for a long moment, before uttering a small, and anticlimactic, "Oh."

"I don't want to play you. I don't want to hurt you _at all_."

I let out a breath of frosty air, and watched it billow out in front of me, towards Davies. His reputation was all wrong. He wasn't the boy anyone thought he was. Why hadn't he corrected anyone until now? Why had he let it circulate that he was the sort to do-'em-and-dump-'em?

Of course, why does any guy? I forgot, for a moment, that males were so different from females. No girl wants to be known as a slut, but almost every guy does.

"I believe that," I said, almost inaudibly.

"Why? You didn't believe anything else I said. Why believe that?"

"I might believe a lot more than I let on."

I watched as he shook his head and looked up at the obfuscated sky. "You're killing me, Katie," he said.

"Sorry," I said, a little uselessly.

His shoulders bounced as he laughed quietly. He turned to face me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. It was unjustified."

I shook my head. "No. I'm quite sure it was justified. I'm sorry for being impossible."

He smiled. "If you weren't impossible, Katie, I wouldn't like you so much."

I smiled unsurely back.

"You are so perfect for me, it's almost painful," he said, his eyes covetous. I ducked my head. "You're my exact compliment."

"How do you figure that?"

"You're clever, and kind, and brave, and completely beautiful. I'm none of those things."

"Refuted," I said carefully, eyes flashing to his. He laughed.

"You are all, and I am none," he affirmed, disregarding my opposition. "I am callous, and unfair, and satyrical." He grinned fully at me, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"I think I'm the one who's unfair, don't you?" I said meekly.

"Hmm," he hummed in amusement. "Maybe slightly. But only in regards to me."

"I judged you too quickly, and I shouldn't have."

He bowed his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "I tried to use my reputation to make advances on you, which I shouldn't have, so it's understandable that you judged."

"Are you going to let me apologise for anything?"

With his head still ducked, he looked up at me intensely. "No."

I tried to keep the smile off my face, but failed. Miserably.

Suddenly, a cold wind whipped past us, and I shuddered. Before I could blink, Davies was shaking off his cloak and draping it around me, pulling the black and royal blue material around me snugly, enveloping me in an unfamiliar, but incredibly appealing scent. It was like white pepper and soap. "Better?" he asked, his hands still on my shoulders. I looked at him standing there in his grey t-shirt and dark blue hooded sweatshirt, and began to protest, but he placed a cold hand against my cheek to silence me. "I'm fine."

"It's too cold to give me your cloak," I persisted, trying to take the Ravenclaw cloak off, but his hands caught mine and held them.

"You need it more than me. You're not exactly the most robust of people Katie. No offence."

I scowled at him. "Fine. Freeze."

He grinned at me.

"You know, people say chivalry is dead, and yet, here you are, proving them wrong."

"Anything to be of service, milady," he said, bowing deeply. I was laughing, until I realised that he was bowing a little too close to my body. I felt his breath on my neck, and halted completely. He seemed to have realised, too, as he stopped, mid-bow, but he didn't step away. "Katie," he breathed. I squeaked in response, unable to articulate. He stepped closer to me, inhaling, and, apparently unable to stop himself, he turned his head to kiss the side of my neck. His hands found my sides, and I felt like electric fire was shooting through the layers of cloak between us.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no ..." I chanted under my breath, but I knew he could sense the lack of conviction beneath my words. "Roger," I whispered cautiously. He pulled back to evaluate my wide eyes with his star sapphire, lust-filled ones.

"Sorry," he said, his voice breaking from the apparent intensity of the moment. He stepped away from me, dropping his hands, and balling them into fists at his sides. "Sorry," he said with more conviction. I could feel my eyes glittering with confused tears. When he noticed, he looked completely remorseful. "Katie," he deplored, distressed. "Please don't cry." I looked up at the sky, and blinked hard to try and get rid of the tears, but they fell anyway. He gathered me up in his arms and hugged me for all he was worth. "I'm so sorry. That was so stupid of me. I wasn't thinking."

I shook my head, dismissing his apology. "I guess I still didn't believe you," I said, my voice cracking. "I just wasn't expecting it. Sorry."

He pulled away, and wiped my tears away. His eyes searched mine for a long moment, his fingers still caressing my cheek. "I'm usually so in control," he said quietly, almost to himself. He pulled himself away from me, with apparent difficulty. "Everyone should be up by now," he said, squinting at the castle behind me. "Your friends will be wondering where you are. And I'm certain you won't want them to know you're out here with me."

I glanced back at the castle, then up at him. His eyes were unreadable again. Without answering, I took off his cloak, handed it back to him, and in a split second decision, kissed his cheek. I pulled away and bit my lip. His eyes flashed with emotion, but he didn't open his mouth again. "Bye," I said, my voice wavering. And with that, I ran off, across the pale grass and through the morning haze, with tears in my eyes, confusion in my head, and hurt in my heart.

--


	22. Chapter 22

_Sorry ... sorry._

I fidgeted. My eyes, trained on the floor were filling, once again, with tears. The girls stared at me, lost for words. I'd just told them what had happened with Davies down at the Lake, and they apparently couldn't think of what to say to me. Granted, if I were on the other side, I wouldn't know what to say to me, either.

Angelina sat down on her bed slowly, her eyes still fixed on my turbulent expression. Alicia dropped her quill onto her book she had been copying a passage from for her History of Magic essay, blotting ink all over the pages, and opened her mouth soundlessly.

"I guess I should prepare myself for another fight with Oliver," I said, letting out a humourless laugh, and blinking my tears back, looking up at the ceiling.

The girls had nothing to say to that, either.

"Are you both mad at me?" I asked meekly, dabbing at the tears that had escaped my lashes.

"No, Katie ... no, we're not mad at you. Right, Alicia? We're just ..."

"Shocked," Alicia chimed.

"Shocked," Angelina confirmed, nodding, still looking a little perplexed. There was a few seconds silence, and I took a deep breath, wiping at my tears that were falling despite my effort to stem them. "Katie?" Angelina eventually asked, "Are you in love with Oliver?"

Both Alicia and I looked up at her – Alicia, incredulous, myself, jarred. I hadn't expected that question.

"Excuse me?" I squeaked.

Angelina's eyes met Alicia's. Alicia stared back at her for a long minute, then they both turned to look at me together. I shrank back, worried. "Katie, Oliver has been your friend since you joined the team. You've basically been attached at the hip for three years. He protects you fiercely, and you do the same for him, albeit in a different, probably more effective way. You have about a million private jokes, and when you aren't touching in some way, you both look completely uncomfortable. If you saw, from the outside, how you both looked at each other, you wouldn't have any doubt in your mind, either. You're in love."

After Angelina's last sentence, I closed my eyes.

"And he's in love with you, too."

I closed my eyes tighter.

"How can you possibly be so sure of that? Just by the way he looks at me? By that reasoning, I'd say Lee was in love with you, Ange, and Flint was in love withAlicia_._" My eyes flashed angrily at the girls. "I don't have to talk about this. This has nothing to do with my current problem."

"It has _everything_ to do with it. Everything you do with Davies is directly affected by how you feel about Oliver," Alicia bit, obviously annoyed by my retort.

"Look, Katie," Angelina said, irate also. "We don't want to fight with you. We were just trying to help. And we were also trying to detract from what we, or at least _I,_ really think about what happened with Davies at the Lake."

"Which is ... what?" I asked impatiently.

"I think that Roger Davies is perfect for you, and that you should date him. And I didn't really want to say that, or encourage you to go for it, because it would break Oliver's heart."

"This whole thing will break Oliver's heart, Katie," Alicia said quietly. "This will _break _him, and he'll never forgive you if you do it. But I agree with Angelina. If we're strictly speaking about what's best for _you_, Roger is your best option."

"Then I can't do it, can I?" I asked rhetorically. "I can't hurt Oliver. He's never hurt me, nor would he ever do so. Who cares what's best for me?"

"We do," Alicia said quietly.

I dragged a hand down my face in frustration. "I can't."

"You can't always put him first, sweetheart."

"Yes I can. And I will. I don't need to date _anyone_. I can stay single, and happy, for as long as I want."

Alicia met my gaze, her expression soft. "When you're with the guy you want, Katie ... there's no happier feeling than that. I've never been so content since George and I got together. It just feels ... complete. _I_ feel complete."

"But you and George are meant to be together. Me and Davies ... we're not."

Angelina shook her head. "How could you possibly know that until you give it a chance?"

"I don't want to lose Oliver," I said, feeling my eyes fill up once again. "I _can't_ lose him. It'll kill _me_."

"Can't you talk to him about it?" Alicia asked. I eyed her dubiously. "Well, Katie, maybe something needs to be said. You have feelings for Davies, or else nothing would have happened at the Lake. You have feelings for Oliver, or else you'd be with Davies. So someone needs to start talking."

I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing the tears out from beneath my eyelids, and pulled the curtains around my bed closed, blocking the girls from view.

What the hell am I going to do?

--

I stayed in my dorm for the remainder of the day, only moving to use the bathroom. The girls didn't come back. They'd obviously given up the subject, seeing there was no way we could agree. I just couldn't see their view, and they could barely see mine.

Fred came knocking at my door at about four o'clock, which was a first for the twins, knocking. I stayed silent, and he knocked again, this time calling my name.

"Katie, come on, just let me in. I need to talk to you."

"About what?" I grumbled from beneath my duvet.

I heard the door click open, and I groaned. The curtains were pulled back, and he sat at the foot of the bed. "Don't sound _too_ pleased to see me, love. I know you're being anti-social today, and I apologise for disturbing you. I won't ask _why_ the anti-social stint. Does that make you feel better?" I glowered at him from a gap in the duvet.

"What do you want, Fred?"

He looked down at my duvet for a long moment, a serious look on his face, before he said, quietly, "Alicia let something slip to George yesterday. About ... the day they got together, after George's fight with Flint." I sat up and pulled the covers away from my face, looking at Fred neutrally, listening. "George, Oliver and I were talking in the Common Room before the three of you came down ..." He struggled for a moment, and I couldn't think of a way help him out of his awkwardness. He sighed, looking up at me for a second before looking down again. "Katie, how much did you hear before you came down into the Common Room?"

"We heard, Fred," I said gently. I watched as he scrunched his eyes shut and swore quietly. I reached over and took his hand.

"I didn't want her to know." His voice broke slightly, and I held his hand more tightly. His fingers squeezed mine.

"Why?" I asked. His eyes met mine incredulously.

"Because Angelina Johnson is beautiful, and smart, and funny, and she can do a _hell _of a lot better than _me_."

"Fred," I said, my voice tender, sympathetic. "Please give yourself a little credit. You're great for Ange, and she likes you, too." He shook his head, definite. "Ask her yourself." He looked at me sharply.

"_No_. Not every relationship happens like George and Alicia's. Not everything happens _quite _as rounded and perfect. In fact, the simplicity of my twin's relationship actually makes me a little sour. Actually, no. _Completely_ sour. Angelina and I wouldn't work."

"How so?"

"Our personalities clash. We have different values. We want different things. How many reasons do you want?"

"But you love her?" He dragged a hand through his flaming hair and looked up at the ceiling as I had earlier that day.

"I don't know," he said, both his hand, and his voice, shaking. "I ... yes. Yes. Of course I love her." His eyes were glittering with tears. I dropped his hand and embraced him, his arms automatically wrapping around my waist.

"Sweetheart, you _have_ to tell her." I felt him shake his head against my shoulder.

"I can't, Katie. I just can't do that. Even if she _did_ like me back, we wouldn't last – believe me, I've analysed the hell out of it. She'd soon see that I'm too immature, or that I'm too hot-tempered, or that –"

"Fred, do you seriously think that Angelina doesn't know all that about you already? And it just makes her love you more."

He shook his head. "It'll be different if we're in a relationship – I know it. She'll end up hating me ... I can't let her hate me."

I pulled away from him, placing my hands either side of his face, fixing my eyes onto his seriously. "Fred Weasley, Angelina will never hate you. She loves you too much to hate you. Just like you could never hate _her_. You are good for her, and she'd be lucky to have you as her boyfriend."

"Katie ..." he bemoaned quietly, dropping his eyes from mine.

"No, Fred. You'd look after her so well, I'd never worry about her, ever. I know you'd never intentionally hurt her, and I know you want the best for her, always."

"And that's why I won't tell her."

"But _you're _what's best for her!" Fred fell silent, his expression ambivalent. "Surely George and Oliver have told you all this?" I asked dropping my hands to his shoulders.

"Something along the lines, yeah."

"So you have three people telling you the same thing, and yet, you still disagree?"

"I know. I _know_." He let out a frustrated sound and pulled away from me, then sighed. "Sorry, Katie. I really didn't want to burden you with this. It wasn't fair to you, since you're Angelina's best friend."

I waved off his apology. "You're my best friend, too, Fred."

He winked at me. "Ditto to you, babe." I laughed, and he stood up to leave. "Thanks, though. You've made me feel a whole lot better about everything."

"No bother, Fred. S'what I'm here for."

He began on his way to the door, but turned back before he reached the door. "I know I said I wouldn't ask, Katie, but ... why are you up here?"

I looked up at him sadly. "Fred, I almost kissed Davies."

He stared at me for a full minute, uncomprehending, before his eyes grew round. "Oh ... _fuck_."

--


	23. Chapter 23

I all-out ignored my problems for the next few weeks. Every time Alicia, Angelina or (as Fred told had George) the twins brought up the whole fiasco, I brought up training, or classes, or shoes. Anything but think about it.

Davies had tried to speak to me on many occasions, but eventually took to looking at me sadly, as if he'd done something wrong. It wasn't fair to him, really, but I couldn't think of a way where I _didn't_ hurt him.

I sighed and threw down my quill onto my Transfiguration essay, putting my face into my hands.

"Kates, what's wrong?"

I just about jumped right of my seat. I stared at Oliver in shock, who was sitting right next to me at the table in the library. I hadn't even heard his footsteps.

"Oliver, I think you just gave me a heart attack. Thanks." I glowered at him, and shuffled away subtly, brushing the hair that had fallen into my face back with my fingers. He watched the action carefully, smirking, then his gaze met mine.

"What's wrong?" he reiterated slowly, as if I were too simple to understand him the first time. I gave him an even meaner scowl.

"Nothing."

"Right," he said sarcastically, and shook his head slightly. But he didn't persist. "Transfig?" I nodded, looking back at the parchment on the desk. "Having trouble?" I frowned at him.

"No, I'm not."

"Okay. Have the twins been bothering you, then?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed. "I'm trying to work out when the hell this mood you're in is about, since you're not telling me outright. And that's very annoying, you know," he said, catching my fingers in his. I'd been tapping my nails onto the desk while he'd been talking. "And rude."

"Oh, leave me alone, Wood," I huffed.

"Kates, talk to me. You haven't spoken to me in weeks. You've answered me when I've asked you a direct question, but that's about it. You didn't celebrate with us when Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff last week. You barely looked at me on my birthday. I'm worried about you, Kates." I shrugged indifferently, my heart aching at his words. Not only was it unfair to Davies, it was also unfair to one of my best friends. But I couldn't tell him. He'd kill me, and Davies. "Katie," he said softly, caressingly. His hand was on my shoulder, and my skin was burning beneath it. I took a steadying breath, and turned to look at him coldly.

"Yes?" I snapped, glaring into his unsure eyes. He didn't say anything more. He just kissed me softly on the cheek, washing me in the scent of is skin. He left the empty library quietly, and I watched him leave, my brain screaming at me.

--

Later that night, after Quidditch practice, and multiple sad looks from Oliver, I flopped onto my bed, entirely exhausted. Emotionally and physically. The girls had been throwing me sidelong looks all night, and I was just about snapped when Angelina cleared her throat and looked at me.

"_What_?" I asked impatiently. She jumped slightly, then looked at the ground.

"I have something to talk to you about, Katie," she said, looking at Alicia, who looked equally as upset. She took a breath, and looked up at me. "Before I tell you, you have to promise not to punch me, or yell at me, or anything." I threw her an alarmed look.

"What have you –?"

"Just promise. Please."

"Fine. I promise."

She looked down at the ground again. "I kissed Diggory."

My mouth dropped open in shock. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"You're far more coherent than I was when she first told me," Alicia muttered, dragging a brush through her hair.

"But ... you like Fred ..." I said, confused.

Angelina laughed bitterly. "Yeah, and I thought he liked me, but he still hasn't said _anything_ about that night. Not a word! I can't just cling onto a minute possibility of being with him, Katie. I just can't. It isn't fair."

"So what's Diggory?"

"I'm moving on."

"No, you're not. You're rebounding."

"I had nothing to rebound from! Fred Weasley has never said one word to me that would suggest that he liked me too, and I'm sick of waiting! So I'm dating Cedric. And I'm _happy_." She said all of this too harshly to be _truly_ happy. She was being defensive.

I looked at her, my eyes still confused. "Angelina, you heard Fred admit it."

"Not to _me_. To his brother and Oliver! It's not enough. It's not fair."

"Ange ..."

"No, Katie. I'm sick of pining. And for all I know, Fred might be planning on leaving me pining for the rest of eternity, so I'm out. I like Cedric, now."

I looked at Alicia for backup, but she just shrugged. She had already thought of everything she could.

"So what about Fred?"

"What about him?"

"Doesn't he matter to you, at all? Do you realise how much this'll tear him up?"

Her eyes dropped to the ground once more. "Of course he matters to me. But I can't carry on like this. I need to move on, or else I'll stay miserable forever. And it's not fair to ask me to do that." I looked at Alicia again, and she had tears in her eyes. "Sometimes in life, you need to be selfish, Katie."

--

It was horrible when Fred found out. I was sitting across the room when George told him, and the sheer, undiluted hurt on his face actually made tears fall from my eyes.

"Katie, what are we going to do? _Look_ at him!" Alicia whispered anxiously, tears running down her cheeks, also.

"What can we do? It's Ange's decision," I said, wiping my tears away. "Maybe this'll be good for her."

"But it's not good for _him_," she wept softly.

"Fred's strong," I said with as much conviction as I could. But looking at his heartbroken face ... Fred didn't look too strong at the moment. Alicia just sobbed in response.

We watched as George spoke to his brother compassionately, Fred staring at the floor all the while. Then, cutting George off mid-sentence, he stood up.

"Fred, what are you –?" George began, confused.

"I'm going home."

"Home? But Fred –!"

"_I'm going home_." And with that, Fred fled to his dormitory. George sat staring after him for a moment, worry written all over his face.

"George?" Alicia called quietly, waking him from his thoughts. We made his way over to us and sat next to Alicia.

"Well, that was horrible," he sighed, dragging a hand through his ignited hair, making it stand on end.

"It was better to hear it from you, rather than him finding out on his own. He'll appreciate what you did in the long run," Alicia told George tenderly.

He nodded glumly. "Yeah ... I just wish I had nothing to tell him." He put an arm around Alicia, and she settled into his side, hugging him.

"You really think he's going to go home?" I asked. George looked up at me and nodded.

"I know my brother. At the moment, he's thinking nobody could ever love him, but at home, he knows it isn't true. He needs to see mum and dad."

Alicia and I smiled sadly. "That's sweet," Alicia said. "Your mum makes everyone feel better."

"Huh," George laughed, "You won't be saying that when she meets you as my girlfriend."

Alicia looked up at him, stricken.

"So, how is Katie?" George asked me, ignoring the girl next to him.

"Oh, you know ... so-so," I replied.

"Speaking to Oliver, yet?"

"I never stopped talking to him," I replied, staring at my knees.

"Oh yeah, Kates. So avoiding all contact with him, and _not speaking to him_, was just a coincidence. He's making himself ill, trying to figure out what he's done, you know. Maybe I should tell him the truth, like I just did with Fred. Of course, then I'd have to crush someone else, and I really don't feel like doing that again today." Alicia shushed him a little, and he sighed. "Sorry, Katie. I know you're going through a rough time. It's just that I don't like seeing my friends upset, and I've seen too much of that, lately. Angelina, and Oliver, and you, and now Fred."

"I'm sorry," I said, hushed. "I feel awful about it all, honestly. But I don't know what else to do."

"Talk to Oliver, Katie. He needs to know how you're feeling, because lately he's been trying really hard not to let things get to him. He's been level tempered, and he's been behaving. He deserves to know the truth."

"But as soon as he knows the truth ... I mean, he'll probably punch _me_, never mind Davies."

"Oh, honestly. He'd never harm a hair on your head. He completely adores you. He'll forgive you in a second for an _almost_ kiss," Alicia chimed. "As long as that's all it's going to be," she added as an afterthought. "Is it?"

I brushed the hair out of my face with my fingers. "No idea. All I know is I don't want to hurt either of them."

"And yet, that's exactly how this ends, isn't it? Someone'll get hurt," George said, sighing. "I just hope it isn't you, Katie."

"Yeah, I hope so too," Alicia said sadly.

Just then, Oliver came down the boys' stairs. "Hey guys," he said, sitting next to me on the couch. "Could anyone tell me why I just walked past Fred throwing all his stuff into his trunk, and cursing all and sundry?"

"She got tired of waiting, Ol'. Angelina's dating Diggory," George said demurely.

Oliver's eyes bugged. "_Diggory_?" We all nodded. I watched as anger flitted furiously through Oliver's eyes. "God, he just can't let alone, can he? That's the second of my Chasers he's been after." His jaw clenched after he'd spoken.

"Oi," George said, his brow quirked. Oliver looked at him, and let out a breath I hadn't seen he was holding, and nodded slightly. Alicia and I watched the exchange in bemusement.

"I'm tired," Alicia said after the moment of weirdness passed, snuggling up to George even more. He dropped a kiss on her head.

"Want me to take you up to your dorm, sweets?" he asked. Alicia nodded and smiled daintily at him. He grinned like an idiot and stood up with her in his arms. Oliver and I watched as he stepped onto the first stair. We both winced ... but the stairs did not disappear.

"How –?!" Oliver yelled after them.

"Niiiiiight!" they yelled back, cutting him off.

Oliver sighed.

We sat in silence for a moment, awkwardness creeping in from all sides.

"Kates," Oliver started, his voice soft.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," I said, cutting over whatever he was going to say. "I haven't been a friend to you, lately."

"What have I done?"

"Nothing," I said, turning to look at his refined features. "You did nothing, Oliver."

"Then why haven't you been talking to me, Kates?"

I looked at the floor. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Nope, sorry. No."

I looked at his stony face in confusion. "No? What do you mean by 'no'?"

"I mean _no_, Katie. I refuse to accept a sorry without a reason. It's not good enough." He didn't look at me as he spoke. Instead, he stared straight ahead, into the fire. His eyes were glinting oddly in the light, and his face seemed to look older.

"Not good enough." I laughed hollowly as I repeated his words. Something struck me about them, though my context of understanding the statement was far different from his. 'Not good enough' stood for most things about my life. It stood for Davies. For Angelina. Fred. Nothing was right. I looked up at him just as his hand ran through his hair. Nothing except him, and yet, even we weren't right. We weren't as we should be on this couch. I should be snuggled into his side, just as Alicia had snuggled into George. But we weren't, nor were we anywhere close. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to be like that, on the couch with Oliver right next to me, dropping as many kisses as he felt like on my hair. I was never sure what I wanted, and that was one of my many problems, hence why my life wasn't 'good enough'.

"Katie, I need to know," he said quietly. "What happened to make you ... scared of me? Angry with me? What?"

"I was angry at myself, Oliver. Not you," I said, balling my hands into fists as the words left my mouth. "I _am_ angry at myself."

He looked at me, frowning slightly. "About what?"

I shut my eyes tight and dragged both hands through my hair. "Ol', I really can't tell you. It will cause another load of bloody problems on top of all the ones I've already got, so no."

I felt his hand brush my cheek, and I kept my eyes closed, for fear of what they would give away. I could feel my skin heating up under his fingers, and I prayed silently to Merlin that he wouldn't notice. "But it concerns me in some way?"

"Yes," I said, biting my lip, tears collecting under my closed lids. "Yeah."

"And it's upsetting you. I don't like that."

"It's not your fault."

"That gives me no consolation. You're upset, and I don't like it." He didn't remove the hand that was resting on my cheek. Instead, is fingers caressed my skin and smoothed my hair. I could feel him staring at me, even though I hadn't yet opened my eyes. "Kates, you know how important you are to me, right?"

I sobbed and pulled away from him. "Please, stop." I covered my face with my hands and hunched over, pulling my knees up to my chest.

"Right?" he persisted, trying to take my hands away from my face.

"You're important to me, too, Oliver. And I want to tell you _everything_. I do. But I can't hurt you."

"Hurt me." His eyes changed from upset and curious, to a touch alarmed. It wasn't a question, and he was no longer prying. He leaned closer to me. "Katie, you shouldn't be worrying about me. _I'm_ the one who worries about _you_."

"Well, it's sort of an unconscious thing when you care about someone," I rebutted, flashing my eyes up at him.

He sighed and stroked my cheek again. "Yeah, I know," he said, his voice soft.

I could feel his breath on my cheek, and my stomach was doing flip-flops because of it. He was too close, and my body language, colouring, and eyes would soon be betraying me. "I should get to bed, Oliver. I have Potions first, tomorrow. I need to have my wits about me when dealing with Snape," I joked, getting up from the couch and heading towards the girls' stairs. He caught me gently by the wrist before I could set foot on the stairs. He spun me round to face him.

"Promise me something," he said zealously, placing his hands on either side of my face. I looked up at him curiously. "Even if you have to hide something from me, _please_ don't act like you have been lately."

I nodded mutely, trying to control the blood flooding to my cheeks, and failing miserably. He smiled crookedly and swept my fringe to the side, kissing my forehead tenderly.

"'Night, Oliver," I told him, almost entirely breathless.

"'Night," he replied, letting me go, smiling a little brighter. And with that, I flew up the stairs, and breathed a sigh of relief when I shut my dormitory door soundly. Phew.


	24. Chapter 24

"So you're going to talk to Davies, then?" Alicia asked dubiously as we walked from Potions to Transfiguration the next morning.

I nodded. "I think I have to. It's only fair."

"And ... what are you going to say?" she asked, hitching her bag further onto her shoulder.

"Not _entirely_ sure yet ... but I'm sure it'll come to me," I said, quite upbeat after my conversation with Oliver last night. Having Oliver back in my life just made me automatically happy.

"And are you going to tell Oliver about what happened at the Lake?" she asked gently. I stopped in my tracks.

"No. Why would I? And cause more disruptions in our friendship? No way, Alicia." I felt my good mood slip, and began walking again.

"No, it's just ... Katie, it's bound to come out at some time or another. Don't you think it would be better coming – from you, incidentally – sooner rather than later? I'm pretty sure Oliver would see it that way," falling into step with me once more.

"We've only _just_ started talking again. I don't want to mess it up again."

"But Katie ..."

"So what do you think I should say to Davies?" I said, changing the direction of the conversation. Alicia eyed me worriedly for a moment, before sighing.

"Tell him the truth."

I threw a sidelong glance at her. "Yeah ... Which is ..?"

"Well, probably that your friendship with Oliver is more important to you than any relationship right now, but you'd like to stay friends, if he wanted?"

"That sounds good. Thanks Alicia." I smiled gratefully. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course, you could tell him the _brutal_ truth."

"Which is ..?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow, trotting up the stairs.

"That you're in love with Oliver," she said simply.

That made me trip on the stairs, almost landing on my face. I glared up at her from my crouched position, then checked the area for people who could have heard. No one in sight. Thank Merlin. "For the last time ..." I whispered harshly.

"Yeah, yeah. You're not in love with him. Right," she said disbelievingly.

"Shut up, 'Licia."

She laughed at me as I picked myself up. "It's _okay_ to be in love with him."

"I know! I'm just _not_!"

"Katie ..."

"Excuse me, girls, but you appear to be late for my class. To your seats, please, and do not disrupt the rest of the students," barked McGonagall from the end of the corridor. We both hurried to close the distance between ourselves and the classroom and went to sit down silently, glancing at each other and trying not to laugh.

--

Through the rest of my classes, I tried to plan out what I would say to Davies. But everything sounded wrong.

'Davies, you and I just don't fit ...'

'Davies, we wouldn't work. We're both on Quidditch teams, and rivalry would get in the way ...'

'Davies, you're too clever to date me. Find someone whose intellect matches yours ...'

'Davies, I don't want to be in a relationship right now, so I think we'd better just stay friends ...'

Nothing was right. None of those options portrayed how I really felt. Truth was, Davies and I _did_ fit, he and I weren't rivals in my eyes, I liked that he was smarter than me, and I _do_ want to be in a relationship.

"What are you thinking about, Katie?" George asked as we, Angelina and Alicia sat down to dinner.

My eyes snapped up to him. "Nothing," I said quickly, glancing around at them all. "Where's Oliver?"

"Studying. Vector told him that if he didn't pass the exam she's set for Friday, he won't be allowed to play Quidditch for a month. Rest assured, we won't see him for the next few days," George replied.

"I thought he was good at Arithmancy?" Alicia asked unsurely.

"He is. But he hasn't been doing homework, and he's gotten himself behind. He's letting Quidditch overtake everything again."

"Where's the change?" I said, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, Jelly." All four sets of eyes whirled to fall on none other than team-wrecker, Cedric Diggory.

_Jelly_? I looked at George, and he had the same half confused, half disgusted look on his face.

"Hey, Ced'," Angelina replied, smiling sweetly up at him. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, standing up.

"You guys don't mind if I steal you're lovely teammate away from you for a little while, do you?" he asked, flashing his platinum teeth at us.

We all just stared at him, and he walked away, Angelina giggling like a little girl behind him.

"Did that just happen?" George asked, staring at their retreating backs.

"She seems happy though, doesn't she?" Alicia said, obviously trying to be fair.

"Ali, please remember that it's my brother that she's killed inside. I can barely look at her as it is, without _that_ sort of thing happening. It's sickening. I just hope Fred comes _back_."

"Jelly, though. _Jelly_? Jelly."

"Yes, we heard it, Katie," Alicia said, sighing and rolling her eyes at me.

"That is _ridiculous_!" I laughed.

"I think it's cute," Alicia stated, staring down at her food.

"_Cute_?" I questioned, incredulous. "Alicia, he just named her after a gelatinous dessert. That is in no _way_ cute. In fact, I would think it's pretty offensive."

"Well, _she_ obviously doesn't think so. Let her be. It isn't _her_ fault what's happened."

Ah oh. The look on George's face made it very clear to me that I didn't want to be sitting anywhere near the conversation the couple were about to have. I tried to get away before it began, but failed. I barely moved my hand to pick up my bag, before George's whole face tinged pink. "_Isn't her fault_? Whose fault _is_ it, then? Mine? Oliver's? Katie's? _Yours_? Because you could blame any one of us if you're going to tell me that this is Fred's fault. Do you really think he meant for this to happen?"

Alicia immediately went into defensive mode, frown firmly in place. "I said _nothing_ about Fred in that sentence, George. You're just immediately assuming that I'm on Angelina's side!"

"Well, you are! _She's_ the one who's in the wrong here, not my brother!"

I stood up, but they didn't notice, staring at each other murderously. And before they could register that I was leaving, I fled –

Straight into Davies.

He steadied me before ducking his head. "Alright, Katie?"

"Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. Too keen to get away from the lover's tiff," I said, glancing back to the table I'd just vacated. He looked over my shoulder at the obvious quarrelling that was going on.

"What's it about?"

"Oh, it would be about _that_," I said, nodding grimly to the Hufflepuff table, where Angelina and Cedric were cuddled into one another, grinning and giggling.

"Hmm. I'm not following," he said. "I think they look good together."

I looked back over at Angelina. She was smiling wider than I'd seen her smile in ages. She _did_ look happy. And Cedric looked like he was happy too. If I were completely truthful, I would probably say they looked good together, too. But my loyalty to Fred stopped me voicing this out loud.

"Hm. Anyway, Davies –"

"My name is Roger, Katie. The only people who call me 'Davies' are my teammates, professors, or people who hate me, and I'm sort of hoping you don't."

I looked at his nervous face as he looked at me, searching my face. "I don't hate you. It's just a bit weird, calling you Roger."

He smiled crookedly at me. "Try for me? You'll get used to it, I'm sure."

"Maybe," I laughed. We started walking back out of the hall.

"Sorry, what were you going to say? I interrupted."

"Oh. Yeah. Just that I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Want to walk around the grounds for a bit, then?"

"Sure," I replied, smiling at him. He smiled back brightly, and opened the main door for me to pass through.

"So," he said, after a few moments of walking towards the Lake in silence. "What's this about?"

I stayed silent for a moment, looking off into the distance, trying to decide what I was going to say to him. Then, when I began to answer, I shifted my gaze to my feet. "I ... I made up with Oliver last night. And I realised I needed to talk to you about all of this, Davies – err –Roger. I'm just ... I want us to be friends. I don't want for you to hate me because I don't ... like you like that. Like you like me, I mean. Or well ... at least how you said you felt about me."

"So you don't like me," he said evenly. I looked up at him squinting out at the Lake, his expression guarded.

"I don't think so. I'm sorry," I said quietly, looking away from his face.

"You can't make yourself feel something, Katie. Don't apologise." He sent me a half hearted smile.

"But I'm also apologising for the hope I might have given you that us might happen. That was cruel of me."

He apparently had nothing to say to that, so he looked up at the darkening sky. "So, is it just that you don't have feelings for me, or is it something else, too?" he asked after a while of examining the clouds.

"Like what?" I asked, even though I knew what he was going to say next.

"Like Oliver Wood, Katie," he said, coming to a stop, and turning to look at me.

"Even if it _was_ because of him, what good would you knowing do? I know it's not fair, Roger, but I can't help the way I feel, just like you told me not five minutes ago. Incidentally, it is about Oliver. But not the way you're thinking. I need to keep him as my friend, and if we two ever happened, I could say goodbye to his friendship for good. I'm just not prepared to do that. It was bad enough not talking to him for a few weeks, never mind never talking to him ever again. It hurt us both more than I can even say."

Davies processed this for a moment, before nodding, and looking at me with a little less disappointment in his eyes. "Friends?" he asked hopefully. In answer, I hugged him, my arms around his neck. He enclosed my waist, and I smiled.

"Friends," I confirmed, pulling back to look at him. "Thank you."

He had nothing to say to that either. He smiled back at me, and kissed my cheek, before releasing me. "I'll see you later?" he asked.

"Sure. I'll owl you," I said, smiling even more, and watched as he walked away, leaving me to my thoughts on the grassy bank.

--

_I wrote this about two weeks ago, but I completely forgot to post it, so here we go. Sorry for the wait :) xx_


	25. Chapter 25

"Katie, you can hit me for this, but what's your middle name again?" Oliver asked me, frowning deeply as he hunched over several bundles of parchment, and a few dozen books. I leant over on the couch and flicked his ear. "_Ow!_ I didn't mean you could _actually _hit me!"

"_Marie_, Oliver."

"_Thank_ you!" he said, rubbing his ear. "Kathryn Marie Bell ..." he said, scribbling my name down.

"Why are you writing my name on your homework, Oliver?"

He shot me a disgruntled look, obviously pissed that I'd hit him. "Because you're part of my homework, Katie _Marie_."

"How so?"

"The assignment calls for me to work out all my friends' character, heart and social numbers, and to translate how those numbers are relevant to their characters as I know them, and what it will mean for them in the future. Coincidentally, do Angelina and Alicia have middle names?"

"Rae and Louise. And I suppose you want the twins, too?" He smiled in what I presumed was meant to be a charming way. I sighed. "Fredrick Gideon and George Fabian, Oliver. Honestly!"

"Well, _sorry_," he said, rolling his eyes, then scribbling down their names.

"So what are my numbers, then?"

"Give me a minute," he said, rifling through his parchments, and studying three different charts, scribbling as he went. I waited, watching him concentrate on his work. He looked lovely, as usual, but his concentration somehow made him even more appealing. All I wanted to do was distract him. I refrained, and instead looked at what he was writing.

_Kathryn Marie Bell:-_

_Character Number: 3_

_Heart Number: 3_

_Social Number: 9_

"What does that mean?" I asked, my brow pulled down into a frown.

He held up a finger for me to wait, and I did. He began scribbling in his near-chicken scratch writing that was annoyingly easy for me to read, since I'd seen it so often.

_Katie (Kathryn Marie Bell) is a –_

Oliver stopped writing and looked up at me, and I looked up at him innocently. "I can't concentrate with you watching me."

"Take a break, then." I grinned at his disgruntled face.

"If I take a break, you won't have a Captain."

"Oh, whatever will we do?" I mocked, then smiled at him. "You'll pass the test, Oliver. You're good at this stuff. You just need to do your homework more often."

"Well then, _let_ me," he said, still frustrated.

"Oliver, you look worn out. You've been working non-stop all afternoon. Come on." I reached up and calmed his shock of hair that he'd obviously been pulling at. "What are your numbers?"

"Nine, eight and one," he answered tersely, reshuffling his papers, and studying another chart.

"And what does that mean?"

He answered without looking up. "Nine means that I'm determined and hardworking –"

"Ha, I have _never_ seen either of those in you before," I said sarcastically, snatching the parchment away from him. I sat it behind me on the couch and turned to him matter-of-factly. "Eight?"

"Commitment. And practicality. Also jealousy. And one's are independent and goal-dedicated, but also self-centred."

"I don't think you're self-centred."

"Not yet. Now give me back that chart."

"So that could be something that develops in your future? So that's something that isn't true now, but will most likely lie ahead?"

"Yes, Katie. Chart," he said, extending his hand impatiently.

"And jealousy?"

He looked uncomfortable for a minute, before saying, "I'm not sure that hasn't already reared its head."

"In what aspect of your life?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Kates, please. Chart."

He was avoiding the question, so I'd avoid giving him the chart. "Who are you jealous of?"

"A lot of people."

"Specifically."

"Why is it important?" he asked, running a hand through his hair, then trying to make a snatch for the paper behind my back. I blocked him just in time.

"I'm curious. Tell me."

He sighed, and gave me a hard look. "Please go away."

"George and Alicia, isn't it?"

"A little bit," he said after a pause.

"Me too."

He smirked and leant back on the couch. I smirked as I realised I'd broken him. And just as I thought it, he tackled me. I'd let out an inadvertent squeal as he tried to pull the parchment from under me. He started laughing, and then so did I, as I tried to push him off of me. In failing that, I rolled over. He landed on the floor with a thud, and I landed on top of him, choking with laughter. He made a scrabble for the chart, but I snatched it up and held it above him, sitting on the hard planes of his stomach, an air of triumph about me.

"I hate you," he panted.

"No you don't. And I believe that was a win, Mr Wood." He scowled up at me, and I smirked back. We stayed motionless for a few seconds, before he grabbed my shoulders, and flipped us. "Bugger," I muttered, looking up at him, straddling my hips. I still held the chart, though. I stretched my arms above my head as far as I could, but of course, he leant down and made a grab for it. He missed, and growled, pinning my arms down, leaning over me. As soon as I felt his hot breath on my lips, I stared up at him with wide eyes, all humour gone. I watched as his pupils dilated, and his irises darkened.

"Wow," he said, still immobile.

"I – I ..." I said, less literate than he seemed to be.

"Chart," he gasped. I handed it over immediately, shocked into submission. He got off me and held out a hand to pull me up, too. When upright, Oliver coughed uncomfortably and avoided my eyes. "Thanks," he said, still monosyllabic.

"I – uh ..." I still couldn't speak. My heart felt like it was trying to break my ribs, and my stomach was twisting like crazy. I felt my face burning red, and noticed that his usually golden skin was more in the rose shades than normal too. He coughed uncomfortably again, then began gathering his homework. I just stood there and watched him, completely hysteric on the inside, and totally motionless on the out. He began making his way across the Common room when I snapped out of it. "Oliver."

He stopped in his tracks, his hands running roughly through his hair, before turning to look at me.

"That needs to stop happening."

His eyes dropped, and he nodded. "I know." Then he turned back in the direction of the stairs, and took them two at a time, disappearing from my sight. I slumped down on the couch, head in hands.

Sweet Merlin ...

The Great Hall was just about full when Angelina, Alicia and I walked in later that week. Angelina hadn't spoken a word all morning, and I could see that Alicia, like me, was getting worried. Thankfully, the Hall was filled with voices and clattering cutlery and plates, so we could question her without being overheard as we walked between the Ravenclaw table and Gryffindor's to where Oliver and George were sitting – Fred still hadn't returned to school. It had almost been a week since he'd gone home to the Burrow, and Angelina still hadn't asked where he was. George refused to look at her, and Oliver's jaw kept clenching every time she opened her mouth. I felt for her. Not that I thought what she was doing was right, just that she didn't deserve this treatment just because she wanted to be happy from her friends – or her supposed friends. I was trying my hardest to stay neutral, and so was Alicia, though she'd slipped up on occasion with George.

We reached the boys and sat opposite them at the table. George looked up at Alicia and kissed her cheek over the table, mumbling 'morning'. Oliver greeted us much more openly than the twin.

"Hey girls. Practice after seventh period, okay?" I watched as his mania glinted in his eyes at the mention of Quidditch.

"Has he written to you yet?" Angelina cut in without letting any of us open our mouths to answer Oliver.

We all watched George's reaction to Angelina's question. He stared at the table in front of him for a long moment, before unclenching his jaw long enough to say, "Why do you care?" His tone was rough and mean, and Angelina's eyes immediately filled up with tears. "You were the one who drove him away. You're the one who made him lose faith in most aspects of his life."

I expected for Angelina to stand up for herself, but she didn't. She crumpled, and tears fell freely from her eyes. "I know," she said, her voice wavering dangerously, lip trembling.

"Mum wrote to me yesterday," he said grudgingly, his eyes flickering up in consternation at the reaction he'd caused. "He hasn't left his room since he got home. He's barely said a word to her, and that's a hard feat to accomplish. She said Dad's going to try breaking the door open."

"Is he going to come back?" she asked, voice even weaker than before.

"He has to. He has exams to sit, and Quidditch to play. But he isn't going to be Fred when he comes back. And I'm not saying that to hurt you, Ange. I'm warning you that he's going to be detached and cold. It'll be like meeting a stranger." His eyes finally made contact with her bloodshot and watery ones. She sniffed and nodded.

"I wish I could take it all back. I wish I hadn't hurt him like this. But I was hurting ... I was hurting _too_ much. George, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do _something_ ... but it was obviously the wrong something I chose. I'm so sorry."

George took her hand across the table. "No, I'm sorry. I haven't been fair to you all week. I've been acting like a pig. You have a right to happiness, Ange. Fred just needs to sort himself out, and he'll be as good as new."

"But I'm not happy," she said quietly, shooting glances around us to check if anyone was listening. "Cedric ... he –" She shot a glance at Oliver before continuing. "Please don't react badly, Oliver, but I think he's trying to leak our plays."

George had let go of Angelina, grabbed Oliver's arm and pulled him back down to his seat before I'd realised he was getting up. "Don't," was George's simple instruction. Oliver's fists and jaw clenched fiercely, but he didn't move another muscle. "Explain," he asked of Angelina. She shot a worried glance around at us all, before she continued.

"He's just been asking a lot of questions about our training methods – don't worry, I haven't said anything at all. I change the subject every time he brings it up."

"_Don't worry_?" Oliver asked in a deadly, low tone.

George ignored him, while Angelina stared at the grain of the table, afraid to look up at him. "What are you going to do?" George asked intensely.

"You mean, what have I done? I dumped him two nights ago." She still hadn't looked up, but what she would have seen if she had were four dumbfounded expressions – even Oliver had snapped out of his anger to look shocked.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Alicia immediately demanded.

She shrugged, non-committal.

"Angie," George said softly, and she looked up at him with shame and tears in her eyes. "Angie, please talk to my brother."

She sniffed and tears fell from her eyes as she shook her head. "I can't tell him how I feel, George. Please understand that. I can't tell him I love him. I _won't_."

"You don't need to. You just need to _talk_ to him. We need him back here."

Angelina stared at her knees for a few moments, tears splashing down her front. When she looked back up at him, she nodded. "Do you think Dumbledore will let me go to your house?"


	26. Chapter 26

Angelina and George left for the Burrow two days later. Angelina hadn't opened her mouth all morning, but the fear in her eyes was proof enough that she was terrified of what she would have to say to get Fred back at school. George just looked hopeful, obviously anxious to make sure that his brother was okay.

After they'd left, Flooing from Dumbledore's office, Alicia, Oliver and I went down to breakfast. It was a quiet affair without either of the twins talking with their mouths full, or mocking somebody or another, that is, until this ... _thing_ ... came bouncing up – _literally_ bouncing – landing at Oliver's side, opposite to where I was sitting.

"Hiya, Oliver!" she beamed, her saccharine voice breaking through our quiet morning like an épée. Her blonde curls bobbed as she bore her teeth to him like a predator. I stared at her blankly as Oliver smiled up the very short distance to her face.

"Hey Cass," he declared, and I watched in shock and horror as the sugarplum fairy planted a kiss on the lips I'd almost kissed only two days ago. My hand gripped the table to steady myself. I felt my breath leave me, and I looked round at Alicia, who bore the same look of complete astonishment I must've worn, though I was sure mine must be weaved with pain. "How are you this morning, babe?" _Babe_?

"I am perfection," she said mellifluously, a sweet northern Irish lilt in her voice, only just barely. Then she turned on us, syrupy smile intended for Alicia first. "Cassie Nolan, nice to meet ya'." She leant over the table with difficulty and shook Alicia's hand.

"Alicia Spinnet," she said, forcing a pleasant smile. Then the insubstantial thing turned on me. She took my hand and waited for my name. I tried to force a smile like Alicia, but struggled immensely.

"This is Katie Bell, Cass," Oliver cut in. I didn't look at him as I studied the child shaking my hand. She seemed to be in Hufflepuff, going by the badge on her left breast. She didn't look any older than me. In fact, she looked much younger, but I doubted Oliver would date anyone below the age of sixteen, being eighteen himself. She had pale silver eyes that sparkled, and pale ash blonde hair, with translucent skin and a button nose. She looked completely celestial.

It's very difficult to hate something that looks like an angel, but I did. Immediately. Immensely. Wholly.

She let go of my hand and smiled at Oliver again. "So this is the famous Kates?"

"This would be her."

"I've heard so many nice this about you. About both of you. Oliver loves you all a bunch." Her curls bounced again and I longed to lop them off. "You know, we should all hang out some time. Just us girls. Wouldn't that be fun?"

I vaguely heard Alicia agreeing to this girly night, but I didn't care what was being said. I felt like my chest was compressing. I wondered how I could get out of this situation without drawing attention to myself. Then Alicia came to my rescue.

"Well, why don't Katie and I get going? I'll bet you two would love to eat breakfast together without us two sitting across from you. Lovely meeting you, Cassie." She smiled at the two of them as pixie dust sat down next to Oliver, then took my wrist and led me out of the Hall. She enveloped me in a hug as soon as we were out on the Grounds. "Katie, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." I let her hug me for a moment, trying to make my lungs work again, but I pulled away before they had, losing my patience.

"Sorry for what? I'm fine." My voice was surprisingly strong, and Alicia looked surprised.

"'For what?' For that ridiculousness, obviously, Katie. He's dating that ... that _thing_. Was she dipped in Maple syrup or what?"

I shrugged.

Alicia looked at me, worried. "Katie, you love him, and he's dating someone else."

I turned my eyes to her. "I don't love him."

She sighed and glared at me. "He's _dating_ that girl. Don't you care about that at all?"

"Nope."

She eyed me worriedly. She knew something was amiss, but I didn't care. What was the use in talking about the pain this caused me? I didn't want her to feel sorry for me, and so I'd say nothing. The truth was that I felt like I didn't have a heart anymore. It felt like it had been ripped out, and now I was standing in shock with the consuming ache of my whole body shutting down.

Ten minutes into first period, and I was trudging back to school to go back to bed. Professor Sprout called me to her desk as soon as I set foot in the greenhouse and told me that I looked awful and should try to get some sleep before afternoon classes. I didn't want to be alone, but I knew the shock would wear off sooner or later, and the tears would come. Alicia watched me go apprehensively. I could see that asking Sprout if she could take me to the castle was on the tip of her tongue, but thankfully she didn't. I couldn't cope with her questions.

I got to the fourth floor and fell against the cold stone wall, all strength vanishing from me. The knowledge that in half an hour the bell would ring and hundreds of students would be pouring past me only made me weaker.

And that's where he found me.

Somebody picked me up from the floor and held me to them. I couldn't see through the tears that I hadn't realised that were in my eyes, but I knew who it was. I knew the smell. Pepper and soap. Davies. He didn't speak. He just held me. He knew who it was over, anyway. He didn't need to say anything.

All of a sudden, I was in his arms. He was taking me somewhere. I made an illegible noise, but he understood.

"Ravenclaw Tower. You don't need people gawping at you right now, and the bell's about to go." I clung to him and buried my face into his chest.

I patted him and croaked out, "I can walk. You can't make – make it all the way up there carrying me."

"Shush," he said. He walked in silence then, holding me tightly until we were inside the Ravenclaw's domain. Too bad I couldn't have a look around at this new territory, the tears blurring my eyes. "Don't freak out, but I'm taking you up to my dorm to lie down. Is that okay?"

I didn't answer. I knew it wasn't okay, but I didn't say anything. We went up some stairs, and I heard him kick a door open, and I was placed on top of a comforter. A light blanket was tucked around me and fingers swept across my cheeks to remove the non-stop torrent of tears.

He kissed my forehead lightly, then began to move away.

"No."

His fingers swept across my cheeks again and he sat on the edge of the bed, holding my hand. "Okay."

I closed my eyes again. "This is completely pathetic. Overdramatic, to the maximum." And cheesy, and everything I hated, I added internally.

He let out a small laugh and wiped some more tears away. "I understand, Katie. Don't worry about it. It's only me, here."

"You shouldn't be helping me like this."

"Why not?" he asked, surprised.

I opened my eyes to look up at him. His eyes were tight. "I've been awful to you. If this –" I choked on my tears. "If this is what you feel when you look at me –" I choked again.

"Shhh," he said, letting go of my hand gently. "Katie, don't worry about me. Honestly. You feel what you feel. Hopefully it'll fade, for Wood. He doesn't deserve you at all – not that anyone does, really." He smirked at me slightly. "Want to talk about it?"

I sat up slightly and hoisted myself on my elbows, the last of my tears falling onto the pillows behind me. I looked at Davies steadily, and he looked back. "I don't know. I'm not really that comfortable talking about it."

"It might help," he said compassionately.

"I almost kissed him a couple of days ago. We were so close, and now ..."

"Have you ever told him how you feel?"

"No. I can't. He's so much older than me, and he's my Captain."

"And also one of your best friends. Do you really think age would matter to him if he knew how you felt? He loves you, too. He really does. He's screamed it at me. That he loves you. That you're his. It's why he's so protective of you. You really think he'd be so violent towards every one of your suitors if he didn't love you like he does?"

I stayed silent, tears welling up in my eyes, confusion twisting in my features.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I don't like seeing you unhappy, Katie. I hate it, in fact. If all it took to make you happy right now was to go and get Wood and lock you both in this room until he manned up and _actually_ kissed you, I would. I seriously would."

The tears fell, and I looked down at my crossed arms.

"That girl – I know her. Cassie Nolan is a nice girl, and what you see is what you get. She's sweet and kind, but she'll bore him. She bored me to death, and that continually optimistic view of the world gets grating. He won't last with her long."

"What if you're wrong? What_ age_ is she anyway? She looks like, twelve."

"She's in sixth with me. And I'm not wrong. Wood is in love with you for a reason. You're unpredictable, and funny, and witty. Cass is pretty, if you like the Barbie definition of pretty. Wood doesn't. He's got the same taste as me."

"Barbie?" I snickered, my upset leaving me for a whole two seconds.

"Like the Muggle reference, huh? I have a bunch. My little cousins are Half-Bloods. They know all of the lingo, and now, so do I."

I laughed.

"Honestly, Katie. I give it a month. I only lasted two weeks."

I looked down at my hands. "Thanks, Davies."

"Don't thank me, Katie. It's okay."

I looked up at him, smiling. "So, how's life?"

He laughed.

Several hours of talking and laughing later, and several classes skipped on both mine and Roger's part, we came down from his room.

Stares. Shock. Mutters. Whispers.

"Oh." I jarred at the bottom of the stairs. There were far more students there than Roger obviously expected, because he stood frozen, also, unsure of what to do.

"Uhh ..." he struggled for a second, then looked down at me and stated loudly, "Thanks for showing me that book, Katie. I'll give it back to you ASAP."

"No rush," I replied, trying to keep my voice light and my actions calm, though I knew I was failing miserably. I was panicky and I knew I looked it.

"Want to go for a walk in the grounds?"

"Sure."

He ushered me out of his Common Room, me biting my lip the whole way. Once we were completely out of range of prying ears, Roger stopped my quick pace. "I didn't think. I'm sorry. That looked ..."

"Bad," I finished, gnawing my lip, now. "If Oliver gets wind of that –" I began, then stopped myself at the look of pity Roger was giving me. "Oh. That's right. He won't care." I said it with a touch of amazement, along with the hurt. Then I looked up at Roger curiously. "It doesn't matter if Oliver hears about that."

Roger gave me a half-humoured, half-worried look. "I suppose it doesn't."

"That means that I could do _anything_, and there'd be no repercussions."

"Well, I wouldn't say _no_ repercussions ... Katie, what –?"

I cut him short by crushing my lips to his. I'd stopped thinking, amazed with the fact that Oliver couldn't meddle anymore. He didn't have the right to meddle. And why the hell did I let him do that in the first place? Why has he got _any_ power over me? I should have no feelings for him. I should love someone who loves me back. That's the healthy thing, right? And here, right in front of me, kissing me unsurely and tentatively, was the perfect candidate for my attentions. Why have I been blinded for so long? It's just stupid. I should've liked Roger. No, I _do_ like him. I have done this whole time. And because my feelings for Oliver have outweighed my feelings for Roger, I've ignored them. That hasn't been fair.

My hands found his ebony hair, and I kissed him with more intensity, drawing myself closer to his body, and he almost matched my intensity, but he pulled away, pushing me away from him gently. "Katie," he said, his voice coarse. He kept his eyes closed and took a breath before turning away from me. "No."

I stood, blood still pumping around in my ears, my heart going a mile a minute, adrenaline rushing from my realisation, and from Roger. "What?" I asked, my voice coming out in a breath. I watched as his brow screwed up, and his head shook.

"You're getting back at him through me." His fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set.

My eyes widened at his words. "No, I –"

"Katie, I know what it was. Just ..."

"What if I want to be happy, Roger? What if I don't want to like Oliver anymore, and that I want to like you? Are you going to walk away from me?"

He looked at me, his face stunned.

"I have spent _far_ too much time pining for him. I know it's a complete waste of my time, so why bother with it anymore?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me frankly. "You don't like me, Katie."

"I've never said I didn't like you, Roger."

"Do you?" he asked me intensely, his blue eyes darting all over my face, scouring for answers.

My arms draped round his neck once more and I kissed him softly, my eyes closing just after his. His hands gripped my waist as if he were afraid I'd disappear, and he kissed me tenderly.

"Huh," he said thoughtfully, pulling away slightly to look at me. "Well that changes things."

I laughed a little. "Yeah. Just a bit."

He shifted his gaze to my hair and combed his fingers through it. "So what about Wood?" he asked offhandedly, though I knew that what happened between us weighed heavily on my next words.

"What about him?" I asked, and watched as Roger's face fought not to smile at my words. "He's my friend. He's my Captain. That's it."

"It's not," he told me, his body inclined into mine. "You're using me, Katie."

"No," I said, definite that it wasn't that.

He shook his head, denying my answer. "I'll have to show you that I'm far better than Wood, I guess," he said, kissing my cheek first, then bent to kiss my lips again.

"I think I like that idea," I told him, my lips still against his. He smiled.

"Good."


	27. Chapter 27

The next day, Alicia and I were studying in the Common Room after classes (for my rapidly approaching OWLs, which I had basically ignored completely for the whole year, and only when Alicia dragged me away from Roger and reminded me that they were only a few months away did I realise that I would have to worry about them fairly soon), when Angelina came back. She bee-lined for us, her face smooth, but her eyes frantic.

"Upstairs. I need to talk to you," she said abruptly, her voice wavering slightly. She ducked her head and bolted up the stairs. Alicia and I exchanged a worried look before dropping books, quills and parchment, and ran after her.

She was already huddled on her bed, her back leaning on her headboard, her arms wrapped around her knees. Alicia and I sat either side of her on the bed. "What's –" Alicia began, but Angelina cut across her.

"I slept with Fred." I felt my mouth drop open. I looked at Alicia and hers had too. The girl between us had begun to cry. "I was talking to him, and he told me that ... that he loved me, and that it made him want to die to see me with someone else, and ... and it just escalated and ..." Her sobs caught her off guard, and she choked.

I tried to speak, to comfort her, but I had no idea what to say. I looked at Alicia for help, but she looked even more lost than me.

She calmed herself down enough to speak again. "I came back as soon as I could. Fred wouldn't come out of his room, and ... I don't know. I must have done something wrong or ... I don't know."

Alicia rubbed her back wordlessly, and I took her hand. "Did you want it to happen?" I asked quietly.

She was silent for a moment, tears streaming down her cheeks, and sobs quaking her body inaudibly. She squeezed my hand. "Yes. I did."

"Sweetheart, if you were ready, then it was the time. You're sixteen, and so is he. It was your decision."

"But I've decided _wrong_." She dissolved in her own tears, the squeezing of my hand intensifying to pain. I let her do it.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not with him! For all I know, he said all that stuff just so that ... and then he wouldn't come out of his room, and –"

"He was scared," Alicia said, speaking for the first time. Her face was blank and her eyes were watering.

Angelina sobbed. "Of me?"

"Yeah. Of you. Angie, he loves you _so_ much. He's terrified that you don't feel the same way, and that he's screwed up. He might feel like he's forced you, or you didn't like it, or ... Did you tell him that you loved him?"

"I thought that ... that sleeping with him was the same thing ... That was stupid."

"Write to him. Right now."

Angelina wiped her tears away. "I've caused him too much grief already. I've hurt him, and confused him, and ... I would be a horrible girlfriend." More tears came, refusing to stem.

I let out a laugh, and they both looked up at me in confusion. "You're both the same person," I said. "You and Fred. Exactly the same." I laughed a little more. "He came to me a couple of months ago – in confidence, so I couldn't tell you – and you know what he said? That he's too immature for you. That he's too hot-headed. That a relationship with you would be a disaster, and that you would end up hating him, even though he could never hate you.

"You know what he was doing? He was making excuses for his own feelings. Excuses against being happy. Because with you, he'd be _so_ happy. And you would be too. His immaturity and his hot-headedness and every little thing about him is what makes him _Fred, _and you love him for who he is. Don't you?"

"Of course I do. I ... yeah."

"Ange, he is the best guy imaginable for you. He'd look after you to the death. He makes you laugh, and he keeps you from getting too lost in Quidditch or schoolwork, and he makes you inarguably happy. Stop making excuses. There's nothing to lose here. He loves you."

"She's right, Angie. Completely right." Alicia said. "Please write to him. He must be kicking himself something chronic right now."

Angelina's expression evolved into determined as she pushed herself off the bed. She rummaged in her trunk for parchment and a quill. She leant against the lid of her luggage as she scribbled quick, moments-thought words, her brow pulled down in concentration.

Later that night, Oliver had called us to practice for the last time before we played Ravenclaw. Roger had had the pitch before us, and as I walked up to the double doors of the changing room, I locked eyes with him leaning nonchalantly on the wall. He gave me a slow smile, and I felt myself returning it easily. He pushed himself off of the wall with his foot, his wet hair swinging into his eyes, which blazed blue beneath the black hair. He wore only a blue t-shirt despite it being March, and jeans that rode low on his hips. In a word, he was lovely.

"Hey," he offered as he came to stand in front of me.

"Hey," I told him, blushing slightly. His smile turned into a smirk as he studied the colour draining to my cheeks.

"Are you nervous?"

I didn't answer, and the smirk grew wider. "Shut up," I muttered, looking at the ground.

He laughed and lifted my chin up with his finger and stepped closer to me. I closed my eyes to him, embarrassment still running in my system. "Don't be nervous," he purred.

"I'm late for practice," I said, half-opening my eyes.

"Wood can shove it," he said, kissing me softly, his hands either side of my face, cradling me to him. I smiled into the kiss and drew myself closer to him, my bag falling to the ground.

_*BANG!*_

"_What the HELL is going on here_?"

I flew back from Roger and stared, wide-eyed, into the livid eyes of my Captain.

"Ah, Wood. Moment killer," Roger said languidly. Oliver's teeth gnashed together. He took a breath and closed his eyes.

"Get out of here before I do something I regret, Davies. Because I swear to Merlin, if we didn't have a match tomorrow, I would pull every single _cell_ in your body to pieces."

"I'd like to see you try, Wood."

"_Get out of here_," Oliver hissed, his face turning red. "I told you to stay away from her. I told you what would happen if you didn't. There was warning. You've crossed so many lines, I don't even know where I want to punch you first. _Leave._"

Roger narrowed his eyes at him and crossed his arms across his chest. "Hm. Nah, I don't think I want to. Katie," he said, turning to me. "Do you want me to go?"

I hadn't moved since Oliver had come bursting through the doors. My eyes were still fixated on his maddened features in shock. Oliver still glared at Roger, his eyes wild.

I opened my mouth to speak, but found I couldn't make the words come out. I hadn't wanted Oliver to find out like this. In fact, I hadn't wanted him to find out _at all_.

"You have no idea how much danger you are in, do you?" Oliver growled. "_GET OUT OF HERE!_"

Roger laughed in his face and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever. I'll get you after practice, Kate." Roger kissed my hair, and I watched as Oliver's knuckles turned white, his biceps tensed. I nodded, and he went.

Oliver glared at his back and I continued staring at Oliver.

"Get in," he snarled without looking at me. My eyes closed in reflex at his tone, my whole body tensing. I couldn't stop the tears that gathered in my lashes as I picked up my bag and walked towards the door that he held open. I cowered slightly as I walked past him, as if I thought he was going to hit me.

I dropped my bag on the bench and looked round to see him staring at me. My eyes dropped to the floor in shame.

There were a few more moments of silence, as he just gave me that cold stare. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, and I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. "Are you going to say anything?" I asked, my voice shaking.

He was silent for a few moments more, before he said, "I don't think it matters what I say, or what I think, or how I feel, Bell. I don't think it matters to you at all." His voice was soft, and so different from the tone he used to address Roger. My eyes darted up to his eyes, and I regretted it as soon as I met them. He had the saddest look in his eyes, and my eyes widened when I saw that it wasn't anger displayed in them. "Why did you do this to me?" he asked, his tone still with the same calibre of hurt.

Something snapped inside me at the question, anger flaring up inside me, an inferno in my eyes. "Why did _I_ do this to _you_?" The question was obscenely ironic after the display he had already made with his little Barbie doll of a girlfriend. "Oliver, how the _hell_ do you have the gall to ask me such a ridiculous question? How _dare _you! It has nothing to do with you!"

His jaw tightened and his eyes became hard. "Nothing to do with me? Like hell it isn't! You're my Chaser, Bell, and he's the Captain of a rival team!"

"He's not Diggory, Oliver. He doesn't even talk about Quidditch with me! Don't accuse him, or me, of any wrong-doing! We've done nothing but date. Why am I not allowed to do that if _you_ are, huh?" His jaw snapped shut on his reply and he glared at me as I glared back. "How's Princess Sugar-plum, anyway?" I sneered.

"Leave Cass out of this. This is about you, Bell. Not me. This is about your fraternisation with another team!"

"No, Oliver, This _very much_ about you, also. How come I'd never even _heard_ of Cassie Nolan before you starting dating her? How come you _never happened to mention her to me ever_? What the hell do you consider me as anyway, Oliver? Just some Chaser, huh?" His eyebrows shot up at my questions. "How dare you yell at _me_ for beginning to date someone you don't like without telling you when you didn't even tell me about _knowing_ the girl _you've_ decided to date? Get the hell off your high horse, Wood, and do not talk to my boyfriend like that ever again, or you will _severely_ regret it."

I watched as he shut down at the word 'boyfriend', and my defence of him. "Get on to the pitch in five minutes," he said evenly, striding across the room and leaving through the pitch doors. I watched the doors swing shut, and felt the floodgate doors swing wide open. I fell against the wall as sobs wracked my body at the sheer volume of emotions that had raced through me in just a few minutes.


	28. Chapter 28

The next few weeks passed numbly. There were no other words to describe how I felt about the blowout with Oliver. He hated my guts. He didn't even look at me during practices, and he always ate at the Hufflepuff table for meals. It was like I had never existed to him, except my presence on the pitch, which, going by the wrinkle in his brow every time I opened my mouth, or geared up to make a goal, he regretted immensely. It hurt me. Too badly to even articulate. He spoke less and less to the twins, and the girls were receiving basically the same treatment I was – just without the disdain.

"You've got that look again," Roger said softly, stroking my cheek. I looked up at him from my place on his lap.

"What look?" I asked, making sure to wipe my expression clean. I knew which look. He'd been pulling me up for it almost every day for two weeks. It was the hurt, cold look that seemed to take over me when I thought of my former best friend.

"He isn't worth torturing yourself over," he said for the umpteenth time, and I sighed. He didn't understand, and I didn't expect him to. In fact, I appreciated the sentiment. I reached up and brushed his cheek with my knuckles. He caught my hand before I could take it back and laced his fingers with mine.

I looked out at the Lake, which had become my spot for contemplation over the fortnight. Most nights, Roger joined me.

"You're beautiful," he digressed, his free hand's fingers tracing my features.

"You're perfect," I answered, and I meant it. I looked back up at him and watched as his eyes swept the natant landscape, a half smile on his face.

"How is the studying coming?" he asked, changing the mood immediately. I sighed.

"Can we not talk about it? I think I've lost all capacity for learning. It's depressing me."

He smiled outright this time. "I'm pretty sure that's not true, Katie. You'll do great – I promise. Any time you need help ..."

"Thank you," I said, and sat up, shuffling to sit next to him on the slightly damp grass. His hand found mine again, and he lifted it to his lips to kiss my palm. I laughed, and he smiled. "How was practice today?"

"I thought we said we weren't going to talk about it before Saturday?"

"I'm curious, and you look tired."

"I am. It was tough. The team are really starting to worry about it. I tried to inject some spirit, but it just wasn't happening. They've resigned themselves to the fact that we're going to lose."

"You give as good as you get, Roger. I can say that and mean it. There's every chance you'll beat us."

"You deserve to win."

"We deserve a shot at winning. If the final turns out as it should be: Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, then there'll be no complaints from us if we lose – well ... one complaint. From one of our numbers."

"Yeah," he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. "I'm not going to try to lose. But I want you guys to win. You've deserved it for three years now."

I hugged into his side at this. "Perfect," I reiterated, and he laughed.

Fred and George sat either side of me at dinner that evening, and the girls took their places across from us.

"Hey," I said. When none of them answered, I looked up at them curiously. They were all fixing me with a pensive stare. "Can I help you?"

"Funny you should ask that, Kathryn," Fred said.

"Uh oh. Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"You're not," Angelina confirmed. "I told him not to do this to you," she said, throwing a stern glare in her boyfriend's direction.

"With respect, Angel, what else are we supposed to do?"

"You need to take what this will do to Katie into account as well, remember. You're treating her feelings like collateral damage."

"I'm not. It will all be fine in the long run."

"She's happy. Let it be."

"Can you both stop talking about me as if I'm not here and tell me what's going on?" I bit, apprehensive as to where this conversation was going.

"We need you to talk to Cassie." I felt my mouth drop open in shock. For all of the things I thought they would say to me, this didn't even enter my mind.

"_Cassie_?"

"Yeah, eh ... Oliver's girlfriend?"

I twitched as Fred said it. "I know who she is." I clipped my tones, fearful of my voice breaking just at the mention of her.

The four exchanged looks. "It's just ... well, Oliver cancelled practice tonight," George told me, his face apprehensive. "It's only four days to the game. He's never cancelled a practice this close to a match before."

"All because of that ... _thing_ ..." Alicia said in disgust.

"And seeing as none of us are on very good terms with Oliver at the moment, and you were his closest friend to begin with, it wouldn't be as weird for you to query it from Cassie's point of view," George explained.

I stayed silent, staring at the table. I couldn't believe that they'd ask me to do something like this – after all that had happened between Oliver and myself, they were asking me to talk to his (I mentally choked) girlfriend, who would undoubtedly tell him of our conversation, and make all that had gone wrong between us even _worse._

Another few moments of silence passed, and I took a breath. "I can't do that." The tears were threatening to fall, and my hands were shaking. George placed a hand on my back, noticing my distress.

"But –" Fred started angrily.

"Leave it," George countered, glaring at him over my head. Fred sighed, but did.

I took a breath, and happened to look up right at the moment Oliver had chosen to look over at us from his place at the Hufflepuff table. Cassie nudged him to centre his attention on her once more, but it took Oliver a few moments to take the hint. He looked at me carefully, his expression confused, before he smiled back at his girlfriend. My eyes dropped again, and I pushed away from the table. My four friends looked up at me.

"I need some air," I excused vaguely, my mind already halfway to the Lake.

"Katie," George and Angelina objected together.

"You need to eat, Katie. Sit back down," Alicia said softly.

"I'm sorry, Kat. I didn't mean to upset you," Fred apologise. I waved him off.

"I'm fine," I said, not making eye contact with any of them. "I just need some air," and I took off.

I was crying by the time I halted on the rocky beach of the lake, my whole body shaking without my knowing why. How could one look from him affect me so badly? How could the prospect of being nice to his girlfriend anger me so much?

"Kates." I sobbed at the nickname, and at the voice, and no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't turn around. He came to a stop behind me and wrapped me in his arms. "Shhh," he comforted, kissing my shoulder. "Why are you crying?"

I sobbed again at the question, and his actions. No matter our fight, or what we'd said, Oliver was still comforting me. He still cared. I turned around in his arms and sobbed hard into his chest.

He let me cry, and I appreciated that he didn't ask me what was wrong again. No matter our problems, Oliver knew when I should be left alone. He also knew when to come and find me, and he definitely got it right this time.

"I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you in a while. I would usually know what was wrong without asking," he told me, stroking my hair down my back. "Too preoccupied, obviously." My heart twinged at the comment, and I pulled away from him, breaking all contact. "Kates?"

"Don't call me that," I said, squeezing my eyes shut and turning my back on him.

"Why?" he asked, confusion clearly laced in his voice.

"Two weeks and you haven't given a damn, Oliver, so don't think you can ask me questions." He stayed quiet. I sniffed and wiped roughly at my face, frustrated at my inability to control myself. "So what now?"

"You need to talk to me. I don't understand what's going on with you, and I need to know." His voice was firm, like a father reprimanding his child.

"You don't."

"I do. Katie, I hate this."

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Wood."

"Stop it," he said. "Stop trying to turn this into a fight. I won't fight you. I'm done with that. What's wrong with you? Is it school? The twins? Is it ... _Davies_?"

I spun and glared viciously. "It has nothing to _do_ with Roger!"

"Okay, well ... what is it then?" I bit back my half-formed shouted retort, but he could see it in my eyes. "Talk to me," he insisted.

"How can I?" came my sad reply.

"You always have. Nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed," I told him, the tears forming in my eyes once more. "Absolutely everything."

"Kates," he said softly, reaching out for me.

"_No!_ Don't touch me. Not when you're just going to go back to her and –" I cut myself off with a curse. I pulled at my hair and let the tears spill over.

"This is about Cass?" he asked in bewilderment. "About me?" His eyes burned as I watched. I couldn't decide whether it was anger, pain, confusion or a mix of the three swirling in his blackened depths.

"As I said, the world doesn't revolve around you, Oliver."

He stared at me, obviously not buying my subterfuge.

"Is there a reason you're making my girlfriend cry? Because it better be a bloody good one." I looked up to see Roger running towards us. Oliver continued staring at me as I watched Roger approach.

"I'm fine," I told my boyfriend, who looked at me with apprehension. He didn't seem to accept my word as Gospel, and turned on my former best friend.

"Well?" he seethed. Oliver looked at him lazily, his intense expression transforming into an unconcerned one as he took in his rival.

"Yes?" he sneered. I could see that it was the wrong move before Oliver did.

I heard myself scream out before I was aware of what was happening. Roger had raised his fist and I watched, as if in slow motion, as it connected solidly with Oliver's jaw. Oliver grunted as Roger yelled out, as if in battle-cry.

"No! NO!" I threw myself at them, desperate to prevent another punch. Roger pushed me out of the way as he rounded on Oliver once more. "Roger! _Roger!_ Stop!" I tried to get between them, uncaring that I would probably get hurt. Oliver hadn't yet moved to make a hit. He was holding his jaw, glaring at Roger, as if daring him to take another swing. "Please. _Please don't,_" I begged.

"I'm not going to do it, Davies. Not in front of her. I understand that you don't have a compassionate bone in your body, and won't know what seeing me beat the _shit_ out of you will do to her, but I know. I know her far better than you _ever_ will."

Roger snarled, his hair flying over his face in his anger. I placed both hands on his chest. I knew that if he wanted to, he could easily shove me to the side, but it was the best I could do. "Don't listen," I said, trying to calm him, pushing him back when he surged forward.

"You know it's true, Katie," Oliver said from behind me. I closed my eyes.

"I do. You do know me better. But you'll never understand me like Roger does, and really, that's what matters." The words burned in my throat, and tears seared in my eyes. I looked up at Roger, the pain written on my face. He understood that one look, and he stopped pushing against me. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be between you." I faced Oliver once more, pain still twisting at my features. "You've made your choice." I took a breath and closed my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. "You're my Captain for the rest of the year, but you're no more than that. Quidditch is where we start and where we finish. I'm done with all of the fighting, and all of the shouting, and all of the hurting. It stops now."

"You don't mean that," he said, his eyes burning with emotion.

"I do. I don't have a choice anymore. I can't cope. What happened today was the splurging of months of anxiety and upset and pain. I don't _ever_ want to feel like that again."

"Katie, I –" Oliver's broke slightly, and he looked at the ground.

"You chose this, Oliver. And I'm agreeing."

"I would never choose that. That – it's – I can't. We can't."

"Your jaw is starting to bruise. Please go to Madame Pomfrey and check that everything's okay." And with that, I walked past Roger, a cascade of tears rippling down my cheeks, and began my ascent back to the castle. A few moments passed before Roger fell into step next to me.

He didn't speak until we went our separate ways on the sixth floor. He stopped me and held my face in his hands, wiping the tears that were still pouring out of my eyes from my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he said simply, threaded with meaning. I sobbed and clung to him. He gathered me in his arms and held me. He knew I needed him. He knew I was falling apart. And I knew I'd done it all to myself. There was no fixing this. It was all over.


	29. Chapter 29

"You did brilliantly, Katie. Well done," Roger said, landing beside me on the wet grass, beaming at me. He dropped his broom at our feet and hugged her. "You _won_," he whispered. I laughed, the sound carefree and clear. It was the first time it had sounded like that in a long time. Roger drew back and pecked my cheek. I could hear Lee Jordan commenting through the uproar from the Gryffindor side of the stands.

"_...the newest couple at Hogwarts. Gracious loser, Davies is. Could teach Flint a thing or two ..."_

"C'mon Katie! Party in the Common Room!" George yelled at me from half-way across the pitch. I smiled back at him and nodded, before turning back to Roger.

"One of the stars," I said, motioning to myself, laughing. "I'm really sorry you lost."

"Well, I'm not," he said in an undertone, so that his team mates wouldn't hear. He winked. "Love you," he whispered and kissed me softly. I smiled, and he let me go, picking up both of our discarded brooms. "I'll take them to the lock-up. You get to your party. Have fun."

"Come," I demanded.

He glanced at the retreating backs of his sullen team mates. "It's a Gryffindor victory. I have no right to be there, and I think I might need to pep-talk my team. Some of them look like they should be on suicide watch." He grinned and brushed my cheek with his knuckles. "Go have fun. I'll owl you later."I reluctantly left, following far behind my team.

When I got to the Common Room, I was greeted with an explosion of sound – literally. Fireworks were screaming, and people were screaming, but loudest of all, of course, were the Weasley twins. They were standing on the couches, handing out bottles of butterbeer and Honeydukes sweets out to the whole Gryffindor population, it seemed. My smile became permanent on my face when I saw Percy Weasley glaring at them, trying to get them off the chairs, and ask them 'how in the hell did you get all this at this hour _without_ breaking school rules? I'm not afraid to tell our mother, boys!'

Angelina and Alicia rushed up to me and hugged me. "We won!" they were screaming, and I joined in too.

"Come on, Katie. Let's go upstairs and get all dolled up!" Alicia grinned. "C'mon Ange. Do it for Fred!"

Angelina made a face, but followed Alicia up the stairs anyway. I laughed and made my way up behind them. I arrived a whole ten seconds after them, and Alicia had already rifled through her trunk, its whole contents strewn across the floor. Angelina stood with her hand over her mouth.

"She's like a tornado!"

Alicia laughed, a little manic. "Come on! It'll be fun. Angelina, go shower. I'll pick out your outfit."

"Are you trying to say I smell?" Angelina asked.

"Yes. Go," Alicia grinned. Angelina rolled her eyes, but headed for the bathroom, surreptitiously sniffing herself on the way. "But mostly because I know you'll say no to every outfit I suggest," Alicia said when the bathroom door closed. I laughed. "I have the perfect thing for her – and it's in season!"

Alicia had never struck me as a major fashionista before, but looking at her wardrobe now, I began to wonder how the thought hadn't struck me before. She rooted through her wardrobe several times until she finally found what she was looking for. She pulled out a green leopard print wrap-over dress, beaming, and I nodded. She dug out some killer high black shoes and set them on the floor. "She won't wear _those_."

"She'll look great in them!"

"I know, but ..."

"I'm _not_ wearing those!" Angelina said as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom in a tank top and shorts, her hair dripping onto her shoulders.

"Why not?" Alicia demanded. "Fred is at least a head taller than you. These are just splitting the difference. Now sit." Angelina sat on Alicia's bed dutifully, her face twisting slightly in consternation. Alicia tapped her head, hard with her wand. Angelina flinched. Her black hair dried instantly, her parting in the middle, curling in loose ringlets well past her shoulders.

"Did you put an extension charm on my hair?"

"Yep. Katie, you go get showered. I'll get you ready next."

I headed for the bathroom and closed the door, but not before Angelina showered. "No. No! I'm _not_ wearing this much make-up. Fred'll think he's in a relationship with a clown!"

"It's _you_ who's in a relationship with a clown, Angelina. Shut up. You look great."

I showered quickly, well aware of missing valuable moments of partying downstairs. I emerged, drying my hair with a towel.

"Tell her how terrible I look," Angelina demanded, pulling her short dress down over her thighs self-consciously.

"You look great, Ange," I said. "Can you walk in those?" I said, motioning to the shoes.

"She won't need to! She can just sit and look gorgeous for Fred to gape at," Alicia said with glee. "Katie's turn! Sit, sit!"

"You're getting _far_ too much pleasure out of this, Alicia Spinnet," I told her. "What dress am I wearing?"

She pointed at a cobalt blue, above the knee, 1940's style dress. "You're getting finger waves, too. True Monroe, baby." She tapped my head, and that's what I got. The waves started at my ears, and finished at my shoulders. She tapped my nose. I glanced at the mirror and immediately noticed the cherry red lipstick.

"Isn't this a little over the top?"

With a manic glint in her eye, she shook her head adamantly.

"That's what I said," Angelina said, rolling her thickly make-upped eyes. Alicia disappeared into the bathroom, carrying a red bundle, grinning to herself.

I sighed, slipping into the dress Alicia had picked for me. "She'll kill us if we take it off."

"I know," Angelina sighed too and sat down on the edge of her bed. She looked at me for a moment, then laughed to herself. "You look like Jessica Rabbit."

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically.

"You've to wear those, by the way." She pointed to a set of dark blue heels that Alicia must have found in my trunk. I found myself sighing in resignation yet again as I slipped the shoes onto my feet, adding four inches to my medium stature. I looked at myself in the mirror and tested a smile. Angelina came to stand next to me. "We do look pretty good, though."

"What was that, Ange?" Alicia asked as she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a mid-thigh length structured red dress. Her hair was straight, hanging past her shoulders, and her eyes were smoke-grey. "Was that a confession from you just then?"

"We look good," Angelina said, rolling her eyes. Alicia took a lap of triumph in her black suede heels.

"Right. Let's go watch people stare at us," Alicia beamed. We followed her downstairs, Angelina and my eyes trained to the floor. "Fellas, the party can now officially begin. The Gryffindor Chasers are here!" she hollered, many people hearing her above the din. I felt blood flush my cheeks. I damned Alicia under my breath, and I heard Angelina groan.

"Wow." Fred and George stared at their respective girlfriends in awe.

Alicia strode up to a stunned George and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a nude-coloured lipstick print. "Hello, lover-boy."

George visibly gulped and took her hand. "Wow," he repeated. Alicia grinned.

Fred, getting over himself a bit, smiled a slow, charming smile at Angelina. "You look absolutely divine, Angel. I'm guessing Alicia had to tie you down to do this to you?"

"Just about," Angelina answered, still looking at the ground, obvious embarrassment written across her face.

Her boyfriend stepped closer to her and tilted her chin up with his fingertips. "You're beautiful, babe." He kissed her forehead and she finally smiled, muttering a thank you.

George turned on me, his smile still fully intact. "And baby-bell, did you think we'd forgotten about you?" Fred let go of Angelina and turned on me, too. They fell to one knee, and each took one of my hands. "Marry me, Kathryn."

"Marry _me_."

"Me."

"Me!"

"_Me!_"

"ME!"

"_ME!"_

I laughed hysterically, blushing. "I'll marry both of you. I'll be polyandrous!" They whooped, jumped up, and planted kisses on each of my cheeks.

"Though I'm not entirely sure how I feel about sharing a wife with my twin. A bit incestuous?" George mused to himself, looking at me thoughtfully. I laughed.

"Get the ladies some drinks! Drinks!" Fred shouted, and almost instantly, three Butterbeers were pressed into our hands.

The three of us sat at the quickly vacated couches, males tripping over themselves to accommodate us. I was starting to enjoy it, and it looked like Angelina was too. Alicia grinned at us, basking in the glory. "It's fun, isn't it?" We nodded dutifully, taking swigs from our bottles. "Katie," Alicia said quietly after a few moments of taking in the partying common room.

"Mmm?"

"Don't look now, but Oliver's staring at you."

I flushed scarlet. "No, I don't think so, 'Licia."

"He is," Angelina confirmed. I trained my eyes to the ruby-carpeted floor. She turned to where Fred and George were showing some second years fake wands. "Fred." She jerked her head to where Oliver was sitting on the windowsill. His eyes widened, and strode over. I watched as their conversation unfolded, subtly as I could. Fred was shaking his head a lot, and Oliver's head was bowed. Fred left him, and Oliver turned to look out of the window, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"I'll be back in a minute," Alicia muttered, and before I could stop her, she was sitting next to Oliver in the window, her arm looped with his.

"Oh God," I breathed. I felt myself standing up and heading for the portrait hole. I heard one of the twins shout after me, but the portrait of the Fat Lady shut behind me before they could catch up with me. I leant against the wall outside, breathing out shakily.

It was hard enough seeing Oliver, knowing that I couldn't just go over to him and hug him, without him staring at me when I looked like this. It made it too uncomfortable. He wasn't supposed to look at me like that. It wasn't like I was the prettiest out of the three of us, anyway. I was definitely the least beautiful.

I would never believe Oliver liked me like that. Never. And yet, the way the girls said it, it seemed like he did ...

I cut the thought short as I heard the portrait hope open, and out stepped the very subject of the thought. I stared at him. His face was soft, and sort of placid, his eyes sparkling, just like they used to.

"I don't love her." He said it bluntly, looking me in the eye.

I frowned, confused, stepping away from the wall. "What?"

"I don't love her." He took a step towards me, and I took half a step back.

"Oliver, what are you talking about?"

"Cassie. I'm not in love with her."

"And that concerns me, how?"

He dropped his eyes from mine, his hand running through his hair. "I just wanted you to know." I bit back my retort, deciding to keep silent, waiting for him to add to his reasons. He took a deep breath and looked me in the eye again. "You are heart-stopping tonight. Truly, astonishingly gorgeous." The breath that I had just taken left me suddenly, and it was difficult to breathe for a moment. He continued, as if getting everything off his chest at once was the easiest. "I'm sorry about ... about _everything_. I don't want it to be like this between us. I don't think it needs to be. Why can't we still be friends, Kates? I don't understand. I can't get my head around it at all. It's like you just flipped a switch on how you feel about me, and I _don't understand_." I could hear frustration leaking into his voice rapidly, like a flash flood.

I dropped my eyes from his. "It wasn't like flipping a switch, Oliver, you know that."

"Do I?"

"Well, at least, _I_ didn't flip it." I looked at him again, to gauge his reaction. His face was smooth, but desperation was still in his eyes.

"I don't need to answer for asking someone out."

"No, you don't. But you _do _need to answer for not telling one of your best friends about it. And even worse, accusing her of being stupid enough to be used by her boyfriend for him to steal Quidditch tactics. Look, it doesn't matter, anyway –"

"Doesn't _matter_?" he interjected incredulously.

"No, it doesn't. It's for the best. We're with people who make us happy. We don't need the friendship we had."

"I do. I'm going crazy, Kates."

"Well ... you can't tolerate someone I care very much for. I can't just forget about that."

He took a few steps towards me and took hold of my shoulders. "Please, just ... just _leave _him ..." I watched as urgency took over his features with a cold stare.

"I won't do that," I told him firmly, shrugging his hands off me. "And you have no right to ask me to."

"Katie," he struggled, looking distraught.

"No, Oliver," I protested, feeling my resolve temporarily slip at his expression. He took advantage of it, and pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me.

"I _love_ you, Katie. I can't lose you, I ..." he choked, his accent becoming more pronounced the more upset he got.

"You only have a few months left," I told him, pushing him away. "When your graduation comes, you have lost me. As everything I was to you before all of this, and everything after. It'll be done. But for now, I'm your Quidditch team mate. I'll help you win the cup, but ... Ol', that has to be it."

"_Why?_" he ground out.

"Because _I don't want to feel like this any more!_" I yelled, losing all calm. "I don't want to feel guilty any more. I don't want to feel like I'm disappointing you, Oliver. And I won't stop feeling that until I stop seeing you every day."

He stayed silent at this, his eyes burning and his complexion white. "And so that's it? After I graduate, that's the last time you'll ever look at me?" he asked eventually.

"Aren't you sick of looking at _me_?"

His eyes blazed. "No, Kates. Never."

I became hyper-aware of my make-over. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, the look he was giving me made me feel sick. I groaned. "We don't _work_, Oliver. I don't want to hurt you. But this is self-preservation. You hurt me so god damn much."

He closed the gap between us, his arms encasing my waist, his chin resting on my head. "I never mean to hurt you. Never."

"I know, Oliver. But it's just ..." I struggled, pulling out of the embrace. "It's just who we are."

"What, you hurt me, I hurt you, in an endless circle?" he said miserably, his hand stroking my hair.

"Something like that."

He looked at me sadly. "Kates ... I don't want to have a life where you're not making me miserable."

"I'm sorry," was all I could say before I drew myself as close to him as I could. He kissed my hair and hugged me back.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," he said, more to himself than me, I thought. We hugged for a few moments longer before I pulled away. I ran a hand over his cheek, smiling slightly. He stared seriously back. "What?"

"Nothing," I lied, telling myself to hold my tongue about how irresistible he looked, the glow of the win still unvanished from his face. "I'll see you at practice, Captain." And I left, leaving him out in the corridor to go back to the party, still smiling sadly to myself.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Fred never dies in my stories. Cedric does, but I don't like writing about it. :P.**

_"You only have a few months left," I told him, pushing him away. "When your graduation comes, you have lost me. As everything I was to you before all of this, and everything after. It'll be done. But for now, I'm your Quidditch team mate. I'll help you win the cup, but ... Ol', that has to be it."_

The words echoed in my head, feeling like I'd said them a lifetime ago. And in some ways, I had. That had been my life where I had had Oliver as a cornerstone in my school career, never changing and always there. When his Graduation rolled around a few months after our conversation, I was already wishing I had never spoken the words that had haunted me ever since I voiced them. I never took them back though, because I knew it had to be this way, with him and his life, and me with mine.

I watched him as he crossed the stage at the end of his Seventh year, fresh from our win of the Quidditch Cup, and I cried as Dumbledore handed him his diploma. Now he watched me as I did the same thing, dressed in his Puddlemere robes, obviously straight from practice. That was so Oliver, I thought, as I concentrated on not tripping as my name was called. I didn't dare look at him when I was under the scrutiny of everyone in the Great Hall. I'm not entirely sure if I would be able to hold myself together if I did look at him, anyway. I hadn't seen him in two years. What was he doing here? He hadn't come to Fred, George, Angelina and Alicia's graduation the year before. Why had he come to mine?

I looked at my four ex-team mates as I stepped down from the stage. I could see that both girls were both sobbing into their boyfriends' shoulders as the twins grinned at me, waving and making silly faces. I laughed quietly, and Leanne laughed with me, spotting the twins too. I was surprised and happy to see them. I'd barely seen them in the year since they had left, and in the year after Oliver had left, I wasn't the best of people to be around. Roger had been the most understanding, I think. He stuck around when I snapped, and when I cried, and when I locked myself away in my room. The number of times he'd slept on the other side of a door after listening to me cry for hours on end, I couldn't even begin to count. I smiled as he waved to me from the crowd.

"Love you," he mouthed, and I replied with an "I know," to which he laughed.

After the ceremony, Roger kissed me on the lawns of the grounds. He had to leave, and I wouldn't see him for a few weeks, his practice schedule at Tutshill with the Tornadoes jam-packed.

"Are you going to say it back this time?" he whispered against my lips.

I smirked. "Are you that insecure?"

"I love you, Katie," he told me, half a smile on his face.

"I love you too, Roger. I'll miss you. Write every day."

"You know I will." He kissed me on the forehead tenderly. "Congratulations. You're a real witch now." I smiled. "I'll see you in a few weeks." And with that, he alighted one of the horseless carriages, and left. I turned to watch Oliver leave in one, too. I stared numbly as it rolled past. He didn't look up, resolutely focused on the floor, but I couldn't help noticing that he'd changed. Not massively, but enough. His shoulders were broader, his face was harder, and his hair was darker. He looked good, but … he looked like stone. Like an imitation of My Oliver. It wasn't quite right and I wondered what had changed since I saw him last. I knew that he had gotten in to the reserves for Puddlemere, and that he had still been with Cassie when he graduated, and stayed with her at least until she graduated. Other than those two things, I knew nothing about his life in those two years. I would never let myself read the magazines he was featured in, and I wouldn't listen when the twins tried to fill me in. They knew I wanted to know, and they tried, but it hurt too much to hear about him living a life that I wasn't a part of.

"Katiekins!" I heard four voices holler before I was enveloped in a massive five-way hug.

"Our baby's all grown up!" Fred and George wailed together, and we all laughed.

"I've missed you guys," I told them.

"We've missed you too, Katie," Alicia said.

"Are we going to ask her now?" Angelina asked Alicia, and she nodded. I looked on in question.

"Well, now that you're out in the real world now, and we've already found _the_ perfect flat, would you like to move in with us?" The girls beamed at me as I squealed and hugged them tighter.

"Yes!"

"Good, because we've already decorated your room," George laughed.

I didn't see Oliver again for almost another year after I moved into the flat above Slug and Jiggers Apothecary with Alicia and Angelina. It's an occasion I don't like to think of too closely. The Battle of Hogwarts had been the worst experience of my life, bar none, not only for all the lives that were lost, or the sights that I'd seen, but the one particular scene that would never leave my mind's eye. One with Oliver and Roger staring at each other over the dead body of my attacker, my wand hanging at my side.

Roger never spoke of it again. He and I both knew who killed that man, and he wasn't proud of it. It had been his wand that had clattered across the floor, and Oliver's who had shot the last curse to save both of our lives. Something changed in Roger's eyes that day, and it had never changed back. Not even now, looking down at me after his procession of the Tutshill Tornadoes home grounds. He blew me a kiss, and screams erupted from his female fans. He rolled his eyes and I laughed quietly, waving.

Truth be told, I didn't want to be here for this match. The team who were still in their locker room were Puddlemere United, and since Oliver had become a Starter Keeper, it was definite that I was about to see my ex-best friend. I took a breath and held it when his name was called out over the din of the crowd. He flew out of the doors after his team, face stony. His game face, I fondly recalled, then shook myself.

Roger told me that I didn't need to come, but it was his first Starter game. And in any case, Oliver shouldn't affect me any more. It had been years since we spoke.

The whistle blew, and the Quaffle was thrown into the air. Heavy thuds ricochetted across the pitch as two beaters hit the Bludgers. Roger sped after the Puddlemere Chaser who had snatched the ball from his fingertips, and the game was on.

I watched Oliver intently, never having seen him play professionally. He was poised, ready, confident. It was nice to watch, having seen him get better and better over the years, the climax of which was now. He'd made it.

I forced myself to look away from him, my brain shouting at me to look at my boyfriend, accomplished and excellent also. He shot across the pitch, now holding the Quaffle, and was ready to score, ten minutes in. I watched as he squared up to the hoops – up to Oliver. It was a tense moment, Roger thinking fast, and shooting. But Oliver thought faster, and easily blocked it, flicking the ball away like an annoying fly. But unlike when he blocked goals at school, he didn't grin triumphantly. His face was still stony, and his shoulders were still set. His whole demeanour seemed different, and it unsettled me. Something had happened to him. Something was bothering him. I knew him like no other person did, despite our lapse of correspondence, and there was something definitely wrong in the way he carried himself.

I shook my head again. Why do I still care? I, again, focused my attention on my boyfriend. I waved as he passed, swerving a Bludger. He winked and half-smiled. I heard shrieks in the box below, and I laughed.

Roger, again, had the ball, and he shot across the pitch, his other Chasers flanking him. He dropped it to the female below him and she pounded it at the hoops. Oliver kicked it skilfully and sent it sailing to one of Puddlemere's Chasers, dead on target, the player not even having to move in the air. The crowd screamed, and I had to stop myself from clapping. Roger pulled at his hair angrily, frustrated at Oliver's skill, just as he was at Hogwarts. He was still too good for him.

I tried not to smile, Gryffindor pride bubbling to the surface, when I thought of all the times we'd beaten Ravenclaw, and most of those wins were due to Oliver Wood. Roger knew that. He'd been dreading this match for that very reason, I knew, but he never admitted it out of sheer pride. And also, because he didn't like to mention Oliver too much, not only for what happened with me, but also because of the War.

The game was long, and yet, the Tornadoes had still failed to score. Puddlemere were 230 points up, and the opposing team looked helpless. Roger was running himself ragged, trying time and time again to shoot past Oliver – virtually a wall in front of the hoops. A mean, emotionless wall.

Roger was ready to score again, throwing all the force he had in his body into it. Oliver caught it with the slightest hint of difficulty, but no more. Roger yelled out in frustration as he turned away from the scoring area to chase after the Quaffle. As he did, I saw the tiniest ghost of a smile on Oliver's face. I found myself smiling, relieved that he showed a little emotion. And then the smile was wiped from my face.

Roger had been shadowing an opposing Chaser as she went in to score, ready to intercept, when a Bludger rocketed through the air straight at him. I yelled out, but he didn't see it soon enough. I could practically hear his ribs cracking.

"Oh dear God!" I found myself yelling, shoving my way out of the Player's box. My role of girlfriend was kicking in as I ran down stairs and through corridors to get to the Medi-room. I was trained for this. I had finished my exams a few months ago. I was a fully qualified Medi-witch. I could help him.

I burst in as just as he was being levitated onto the bed by two medi-wizards. "Roger!" He groaned in response. I turned to the two health officials. "What's the damage?"

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to leave while we deal with your boyfriend, miss," one of them began kindly, his round face smiling gently.

"No, I'm qualified. I can help." I rummaged in my bag for my St. Mungo's card frantically. I produced it and threw it at the man, hurrying to Roger's side. "What's the damage?" I asked again, more urgently this time.

"Are you sure you're a medi-witch?" the other, considerably older, lighter haired man asked me.

"Yes!"

"She is, Col'. Newly qualified," he told him, and showed him my ID card.

"Listen," I said, turning on the two men. "If you don't either tell me what the damage is, or start _doing_ something to help my boyfriend in five seconds, I'm going to have to report you for negligence."

'Col' chuckled as the younger, dark haired man set to work nervously. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" he said in good humour. I fumed, but he continued. "Mr Davies has four broken ribs and a broken sternum. None of his internal organs are affected, I'm sure you'll the pleased to hear. He also hit his head off of his broom when he was hit, which is why he's a bit out f it. But he'll be fine in a few hours. You can help, if you want. I'm Colin, and this is newly qualified Rick. We're the medi's for the Tornadoes. Nice to meet you, Miss … Bell," he said, checking my card, and then handing it back to me, beaming at me.

"Katie," I corrected, smiling. "Sorry I went a bit psycho-girlfriend there."

"That's quite alright. We get a lot worse than you, believe me. Whenever Harrison gets injured, we have a gaggle of concerned 'girlfriends' in here, usually resulting in a massive cat fight."

"That's usually quite entertaining, though," baby faced Rick chimed. I laughed, grabbing some skele-grow to mend Roger's broken right side.

"Here, help us get him out of this robe. Need to make sure there's no broken skin. And we've been told that if we destroy another one of these without due cause, it'll come out of our wages," Rick laughed. He guys hauled Roger into a sitting position. I gritted my teeth when I heard my boyfriend's squeal of pain. I eventually extracted his arms from the sleeves of the light blue robe, and helped lower him back down on the bed. I affectionately fixed his hair, then kissed him on the forehead.

"How long have you guys been dating?" Rick asked curiously, pouring a measurement of skele-grow into a vial while Colin prepared an anti-inflammatory.

"Just over five years," I told him, wiping mud off Roger's furrowed brow.

"That's a long time," he said, his eyebrows shooting up. "You two are pretty young to have had such a long relationship."

I nodded, smiling. "We started dating when I was in fifth year, and he was in sixth."

"And have you ever heard him in pain before?" Colin asked, smearing the paste on Roger's hard stomach. Roger groaned.

"I try to avoid it when I can."

"Can you stomach it today?" Rick asked, pausing before pouring the potion into my boyfriend's mouth. I nodded and winced as Roger yelled out, the skele-grow taking effect straight after administration. I held his shoulders down gently so the bones would realign straight.

"Shhh," I shushed. One of his hands found mine, and he opened his eyes.

"Kate," he moaned.

"Hey, sweetheart. Colin and Rick'll have you fixed up in no time."

"The game," he coughed.

I looked up and the medi-wizards, smirks across their faces. "Mate," Rick began, trying not to laugh. "You were 230 points behind, and the team just lost their centre Chaser. What do you think happened?"

It turned out that Roger's team had lost 260-150, their Seeker having caught the Snitch. Roger swore loudly when his team Captain, the open side Beater, Nick McCafferty, informed him when he came to see if his Chaser was okay.

"Sorry, mate. I know it's tough, being your first game and everything, but Wood's like a machine. We had no chance. You were brilliant out there, and I'm completely psyched you're with us. Those shots you made would've broken some Keeper's hands. We're playing the Cannons in a few weeks. We'll slaughter them. Puddlemere just have too strong a side." He clapped Roger gently on the shoulder. "Feel better, Rog'. Two day resting period, okay? I'll see you on Tuesday." He left, and Roger covered his face with his hands, his groans nothing to do with his injuries. Colin and Rick had long since left to fill out their paperwork, and we were left alone in the medi-bay.

"Please don't beat yourself up, Roger. Nick was right. You were amazing out there this afternoon." He didn't reply, and I stroked his long fringe out of his face. "Sweetheart, I'm so proud of you today. Please don't let this bother you." He let his hands drop, and he sighed. He half-sat up, and I pushed him back down. "No chance, Davies. I'm still your medi-witch. You have to rest."

"You're the prettiest, kindest, most supportive medi-witch I've ever met, Nurse Bell." He smiled lopsidedly, and I planted a kiss on his lips.

"I love you," I told him.

"I love you too, but can I go home now please, matron?" he joked, pouting.

"Very funny, and soon. You're coming back to my flat, though. You won't get mauled by fan-girls there. You're fragile at the moment."

"Pfft, fragile?"

"Yes, Roger. Not to bash your masculinity, but you've just had a load of bones mended. We need to make sure they've knitted properly."

He pouted even more. "Can't we do that at home?"

I rolled my eyes. "Wait until the boys come back, then I'll take you home."

He pulled on my arm with a smile, tugging me into a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered.

A cough behind us alerted us to someone else's presence in the room. I whirled on the spot, and was almost floored.

"Are one of your medic's around? There's only one assigned to our team and he's busy with Wilkes." Oliver didn't look at me, and instead made eye contact with Roger, speaking in a monotone. Roger's face closed down and didn't answer.

I bit back a sob at seeing him, and told him, "They'll be back in a bit."

"Thanks," he said, his eyes flickering briefly to mine. "I think you broke some of my fingers, Davies. You played a good game today." Again, Roger was silent, and Oliver nodded to himself, and fell silent, too.

I looked at the hand he was cradling. His middle and ring finger were most definitely broken on his right hand. It must've been causing him some amount of pain. I sighed internally, slipping my card out of my pocket and crossing the room to show him it. His eyes flashed from the card to me, confusion in his eyes. "Sit on the bed," I told him.

"Kate, " Roger protested.

"It'll take ten minutes, Roger. He's in pain."

"Thanks," Oliver muttered, dutifully sitting on the bed. I grabbed the skele-grow from Rogers bedside unit, and poured a small dose. I handed Oliver the vial, and he took it. I grabbed some bandages and a splint from the medical cupboard and strapped his hand up.

"Keep that on for a few hours. They'll be as good as new by the morning. I'll just fill out your paperwork to take to your medi-bay, and you can go."

"Thank you, Katie," he said again, softly. I squeezed my eyes shut as soon as I had my back to him, Roger watching my every move from his bed. I scribbled Oliver's notes as quickly as I could, feeling completely drained just from his presence. I handed him the forms, and flashed him a quick smile, medical training etiquette setting in.

"Be sure to rest it, and don't take the support off until tomorrow morning."

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it, and left the room without another word.

I stared at the closed door for a moment, breathing slowly, regaining calm.

"Why did you do that?"

I sighed and turned to look at my miffed boyfriend. "I'm a medi-witch, Roger. It's my duty to help people in pain, no matter who it is. If Marcus Flint walked through those doors, and he was hurt, I'd still have to treat him – and you know my feelings on him." He exhaled heavily in response. I smiled sadly. "Come on. I don't want to wait here for much longer, an those boys are taking too long. Let's go home." I helped him stand and put his robe back on, before leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry. It's my job."

He nodded. "I know. It's just ..."

"I know," I assured him, stroking his cheek. "Come on. Let's go home." And with that, I Apparated him to my flat.


	31. Chapter 31

A month later, with a mug of coffee, I sat on my windowsill, looking down at Diagon Alley from my lofted position. The girls were at work (Alicia at Madame Malkin's as her apprentice, and Angelina at the Department of Magical Games and Sports, as a junior assistant to Ludo Bagman) and I had the flat to myself. For the first time in a while, I felt peaceful. It seemed like my chosen profession just brought panic and adrenaline, as did my boyfriend nowadays.

He still wasn't over their loss to Puddlemere, and despite slaughtering the Chudley Cannons, he still muttered under his breath to himself about 'failing the team'. Roger had never really been the sort of person to dwell so wholly on a loss – that was more Wood's style, and Roger prided himself to be above that … usually. But lately, Roger had been a different person. I'd barely seen him since the Cannons match two weeks ago, and he didn't … well, he didn't listen to a damn thing I had to say.

I felt anger bubble up in my chest, and drowned it in coffee. I was being stupid. He was just stressed. I must have been the same when my exams were coming up.

I sighed and watched the steam billow to fog the panes of the window. It was cold outside – but after all, it was November.

I let my head fall against the fogged glass, my shoulders slumping. November. Oliver would be twenty-one in a few days. And when that day came, I will have missed three of his birthdays.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"

I jumped a mile, spilling coffee down my leg with a squeal and thumping my head on the window frame with an 'oof'.

"_George_!" I chastised, wiping my jeans in a vain attempt to stop the hot liquid burning me.

He smirked and pointed his wand at my leg, drying it immediately. "Harro, Katie."

"So, other than to terrify me and burn my leg, why are you here? Alicia's at work."

He smirked more widely. "I don't just come here to see Alicia." I tsked disbelievingly. "I did actually come here to see you."

I raised my eyebrows. "What about?"

"Well ..." he began timidly. And I knew from that exactly what it was about.

"No, George. No, please. Come on ..."

"He's in the shop. He was asking about you."

"You tell him I'm fine, and that's it!"

"He told us you fixed his hand at the Tornadoes match after Roger broke it." I sighed, leaning on the windowsill and putting my mug down. George sat down at the small kitchen table beside me. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"Katie, that's the first time you've spoken to him since he left school. _He_ thought it was important."

I stared at George for a moment. "He said that?"

"He came to us and talked about it. It's essentially the same thing with Oliver."

"Hm."

"He, em … he was also speaking to us about moving out of his house."

I frowned. "Why? He lives in the expensive bit that-a-way, doesn't he?" I asked, gesturing out of the window to the very other end of the Alley.

George nodded, a funny look on his face. "Yeah. He did. With Cassie."

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh. He's still with her."

"No. Not any more. Found her in bed with some guy. Broke off the engagement as soon as he stopped yelling."

"Oh," I said, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of me. Oliver had been engaged? "Wow."

"Yeah."

"Wow," I repeated, running a hand over my face. "So … it's his house, presumably? He bought it?"

"Yeah. But he's giving it to her."

"_Why?_" I asked incredulously.

"He still loves her," George stated simply. "The girl broke his heart. She's only the second to have done so," he told me, giving me a pointed look. "He's still naïve to it."

I shook my head sadly. "I was just thinking before, too. It's his birthday in a few days."

"That was … sort of why I came by. We're going to throw him a surprise party at our place, and it'd mean a lot to him if you were there."

"No. _Nonononono_."

"C'mon, Katie. The poor bloke looks damn-near suicidal. It doesn't mean you have to be best mates again. Merlin knows Roger wouldn't allow that, anyway."

"I can't, George. You know I can't. I get so upset when I see him." I felt myself welling up at the thought of it.

George jumped up and gathered me in his arms. "Shhh, shh. Okay, okay. Don't worry about it. Sorry, Kates."

Tears fell at the nickname, George's accent making it feel wrong, just as it always felt wrong whenever anyone but Oliver said it.

I sniffed, wiping my eyes and pulling away, attempting a watercolour smile in the process. "Sorry. It's just me being a baby again."

"Well, you're our baby, baby-Bell."

I laughed. "Cute," I retaliated sarcastically.

"I thought it was," he jested. I laughed and rolled my eyes. "So … how's Rog'?"

I nodded vaguely, glancing out of the window. "Yeah, he's alright."

"And from that I can take it that he's not treating you any better?"

I sighed and looked at him seriously. "I don't know if it's anything to do with me, George. It worries me that it might be."

"If it's anyone, Katie, it's him. You're a perfect girlfriend."

I laughed sarcastically and picked up my mug, crossing the small kitchen and washing it out, placing it on the drainer. "Well, I've refused to marry him for eighteen months. I wouldn't deem that as particularly perfect."

"You shouldn't feel obligated to marry him just because you've been with him for a long time."

"But _why_ not? I love him, and I _want_ to marry him … I just get this … this weird feeling when I think about it."

"Maybe you think you should be marrying somebody else." I gave George a sharp look, and he shrugged. "You've been with him for five years, Katie. It must be something."

"It's more likely because I'm only nineteen. Roger is my first proper boyfriend. They say marriages like that never work out. I don't think I could go through that with him."

"Alicia's my first proper girlfriend. I don't feel weird about marrying her."

"So why haven't you asked her?" grabbing the opportunity of a new subject to talk about.

He laughed. "Not a chance, love. Get back to why you won't marry your boyfriend."

"Damn you, Weasley." I sighed, glancing out the window yet again to regard the street below. I didn't know why the thought of marrying Roger scared me – and it wasn't the typical nervous fear, either. The thought of spending the rest of my life with him made me feel completely uneasy. And it made me think I didn't love him like I thought I did.

"Roger was a rebound from Oliver, wasn't he?" George questioned quietly. "It's no coincidence that you started dating him only a few hours after you found out about Wood and that bitch, Cassie, was it?" I dropped my eyes to the white wood of the sill. "You were in love with Oliver back then, weren't you?"

I was silent for a moment, considering my answer. The truth was, yes … all of that was true. The only fallacy was the tense of his last question. But I couldn't say it. Not a chance could I say it. "Roger knew," I said, as if it made it better. I cringed. I preferred not to remember that particular period in my life. I was ashamed of it.

"He must really love you, Katie. I would never be someone's rebound guy."

I turned to look at him with sad eyes. "I've never talked about this before." I sat on the windowsill again clasping my hands together on my lap.

"You should have told us."

"I was ashamed. I still am."

"But you love Roger?"

"Of course I do," I answered instantly.

"And you don't love Oliver anymore?"

I faltered on my answer before saying, "No."

The twin eyed me thoughtfully. "That wasn't very sure."

"I miss him," I told him quietly. "I hate missing out on his life. But I know I can't go near him because, 1, I'm with Roger, and 2, I'll end up falling in love with him all over again, and I can't let that happen."

"Katie," George began, looking at me dead in the eyes. "You should have told him how you felt at school."

"I couldn't. I was just his friend. It would have been a disaster from start to finish."

"No. You weren't just his friend." I looked at him quizzically. "You were listening with the girls the day I got into a fight with Flint, weren't you?" he asked, the intensity in his voice not matching his statement.

"Yeah ..."

"And you saw him, on about a thousand occasions, take a fist from any suitor that tried their hand at you." I nodded, still confused. "But you _didn't_ see him turn down three starter positions at the end of his Sixth year, despite the Cup being cancelled?"

"_What_? What are you talking about?"

"Puddlemere, the Tornadoes _and_ the Magpies."

"_Starter_ positions? Straight out of school? Not even being of age?"

"Yep. But he turned them down. And it wasn't anything to do with wanting to get his NEWTs, Katie."

"Then why? And why didn't he tell me? I was one of his best friends!"

"Because he couldn't tell you the reason for not wanting to leave school. Katie, Oliver loved you completely and utterly. He's wanted to marry you since you were fourteen years old. We told him that that was barmy, and a little bit illegal, but … yeah."

I stared at George, wide eyed, motionless and speechless.

George stared back at me, gauging my reaction, apprehensive and quiet.

My brain spluttered back into function, and whirred furiously. Oliver had loved me at school. For at least two years. The twins knew. The girls probably knew. The whole school probably knew, and I was none the wiser.

"He wouldn't let us tell you, and he was terrified of telling you himself. And … Katie, sweetheart, he still loves you."

"How can that be possible?"

"He tried to get over you. And Cassie was part of that. He never thought he'd fall in love with her too, and now she's broke his heart as well."

"I … he can't love me, George. It's not … he … I won't believe it. Six _years_?"

"Yes. Ask him if you don't believe me."

"No!" I yelped.

George got up from the table, pulling me into his arms. "Listen," he said soothingly, "It's Oliver. You know him like nobody else does. You know that he loves you, deep down. It's your decision whether you choose to accept it or not."

"George," I whispered into his chest. I looked up at him. "What can I do? I ..."

He stroked my back. "Sweeheart, there isn't anything you can do without breaking up with Roger. Unless that's something you're considering already, try to put in the back of your mind."

I buried my head in his chest again, pausing a moment, before uttering, "I still love him, George."

He sighed, stroking my back again. "I know, Katie, love. I know."

"Yeah, we knew," Angelina informed me calmly that night, sitting in the same chair George had sat in that afternoon.

"Guys!" I yelled, glaring at the girls in front of me. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? Don't you think that would have made my life a little easier?"

"Well, yes Katie, but Oliver told us that if we didn't keep quiet he'd kick us off the team."

"And what about after he bloody well left school?"

"You were with Roger, and he was with Cassie. We thought he was over you," Angelina told me.

"Apparently not!"

"Calm down, Katie," Alicia told me, handing me a fresh cup of coffee.

I tried to take a deep breath, but it stuttered, too much adrenaline pumping through my body.

"So, Oliver broke up with Cassie?"

"She cheated on him," I told them.

"With who?"

"No idea. George didn't tell me. I don't think Oliver told him."

"Poor guy," Angelina said, shaking her head. "He didn't deserve that. He bought her that house, and he was paying for a massively fancy wedding that he didn't want … All for her, and all that time, she was screwing around behind his back."

My nose wrinkled distastefully at the expression. "Why do it, though? I can't imagine Oliver being a bad boyfriend."

The girls shook their heads. "No. He wasn't."

"Poor love," Alicia said quietly.

I sighed and sat at the table.

"What's wrong, Katie?" Angelina asked me, patting me on the back.

"I feel weird."

"Why?"

"Because for the first time, I understand all Oliver has done, and it's been me who has been the bad guy all this time."

"He didn't deal with his feelings right, Katie. What happened wasn't your fault."

"I think he almost told me, once. Outside the Common room, after we won against Ravenclaw. I cut across him and wouldn't let him finish."

"You weren't to know," Alicia said soothingly.

"I claimed to know him like no other person. How can that be true now that I know this?" I said miserably.

The girls glanced at each other sadly, before standing up and hugging me. "It's in the past, Katie. Nothing can be done, now."

My heart broke all over again at the thought.


	32. Chapter 32

Three days, and many hissy fits later, I was readying myself for what I expected to be one of the most uncomfortable and heart-wrenching nights of my life. Fred had come over six times to check that I was getting ready, and the girls kept popping their heads round my door every ten minutes. It was starting to get frustrating.

"Kaaaatiiiiee," Fred called or the seventh time.

"I'm _going_ to the stupid party, Fred! Go away!" I fought with my dress zipper, cursing it for being stuck. "Actually … is Angelina or Alicia there?"

"Ange is getting dressed, and Alicia went over to help George set up."

"Damn."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't get my zipper up."

"Oh. Well, I can help with that. Done it countless times with Ange."

I blushed, knowing how much of my back was exposed, but agreed anyway. The party was due to start in twenty minutes and I hadn't even fixed my hair. Fred zipped the dress up without a blink. He turned me around and whistled, and I blushed again.

"Shut up," I muttered. I glanced down at the dark blue, form-fitting dress that Alicia had made me buy while shopping in Muggle London the week before.

"You should learn how to take a compliment better, Katie. You must be used to it by now."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting at my dresser, fixing back one side of my hair with the ornate antique pins that Angelina bought me for my last birthday.

"Well, you're beautiful, Katie. You're completely irresistible to most men. Not me, right enough. You can't wrap me round your little finger. I'm already in love." He smiled at me in the mirror, and I laughed.

"Thanks Fred," I said, dropping my eyes.

"Surely Roger tells you this all the time?"

"In letters," I told him, my sadness seeping into my voice. I hadn't seen Roger in weeks.

"Aw, Kat, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It isn't your fault he's detached and weird. That's down to me."

"Katie," Fred said, pity laced in his voice.

"Don't worry about it," I repeated, shaking the rest of my hair, slightly waved, down my back.

"Well, just so you know: you look absolutely astounding, Katie."

I smiled, and thanked him.

"Alright, kids, lets get going," Angelina called from my doorway, looking amazing in mauve, the skirt of her dress flowing around her knees elegantly.

"Now, _you_, I could eat," Fred said, practically drooling.

We arrived at Fred and George's shop a few minutes later. It took longer than it possibly should have, Fred having to act as both mine and Angelina's stabiliser, cobblestones hindering our stride in high heels.

The shop was brightly lit, and loud – very loud.

"I thought it was just a few friends?" I asked, staring through the windows at the milling people behind them. There had to be at least forty people in the tiny shop.

"Oliver has a lot of friends," Fred shrugged, pushing the door open and ushering us inside the bouncing shop.

"Good evening, fair lady," George appeared, bowing to my side. He handed both Angelina and myself a drink – firewhiskey, of course. "How are we this evening?"

"Good, George, good," I replied, smiling brightly. On the surface, I was smiling, but my inside was in knots – chains. Oliver was here somewhere. I would have to see him, and speak to him. Was I strong enough for this?

"Birthday boy, how are you?" I heard someone ask somewhere in the vicinity. I whipped around, to locate the woman's voice. She looked Italian, and athletic, possibly a Seeker.

"Yvette," I heard Oliver say as he hugged her. My stomach twisted slightly. "How're the girls?"

I eased slightly as Yvette began talking about her twin daughters, and then almost slapped myself for my gall. I was with _Roger_.

"That's Bianchi, Holyhead's new Seeker. 22 year old Quidditch player with year old twins. No idea how she does it," Angelina informed me quietly as I took a gulp of alcohol, drowning whatever animal was eating at my insides. I felt George's hand on my back, and I knew that he knew what I was thinking, which was definitely separate from what Angelina had just told me.

I watched Oliver from my position near the back of the shop, speaking to people I didn't know, laughing at old anecdotes I wasn't part of, smiling a different smile to what he used to. It wasn't him, any more. He wasn't my protective, beautiful, brave, tenacious best friend, and hadn't been for five long years. What he was now was … robotic. Smile, laugh, nod, speak, laugh, nod, move on. Smile, laugh, nod, speak, laugh, nod, move on. Over and over. I wanted to shout at him, tell him to snap out of it. It wasn't him. I came to this to see _him. _I hadn't admitted to myself that fact until that moment, and I clutched my glass tight, squeezing my eyes shut, and willing myself not to cry. I still hadn't let go of him, after all this time.

"Are you okay?" Alicia asked me in a undertone, appearing in front of me suddenly.

"Headache," I muttered quickly, opening my eyes to her as she eyed me dubiously. "I shouldn't have come here," I told her honestly.

"Oh Katie, it's going to be okay."

"I should leave."

"No, you shouldn't. Katie, this is your chance to fix your friendship. It doesn't have to be like this forever. Neither of you _want_ it to be like this forever. Talk to him."

I eyed her dubiously for a moment. "You think it's that easy?"

"It used to be easier than _breathing_ to you, Kat."

"It's different, now."

"Of course it's different! You were always going to change. The only difference is that it happened apart." She grabbed another drink from one of the floating trays and pushed into into my hand. "_Go_ and talk to him."

I shook my head a gulped back the burning liquid she'd given me. She looked at me in disappointment, her eyes flicking over to the man in question.

And he _was_ a man, in every sense of the word. I'd only twice briefly seen him since he graduated from Hogwarts, a man then. Now, he looked like a man who'd had a life already in his early twenties. He looked upon people as if he'd seen it all before. Not exactly bored, but tired. The vivacity had fled from his eyes, and in it's wake, darkness. Not a shred of his personality as I had known him was left in those eyes.

A man, then, as everyone expects a man to be these days. Disenchanted. Disappointed. Disappearing.

He had loved Cassie. It was plain, and painful to see. He was used to her being by his side, and the lack of her at this party seemed to be taking it's toll on him. He downed three Firewhiskeys while I watched, before running a hand through his hair, avoiding the eyes of his guests, and made his way into the back of the shop, where Fred and George kept their stock.

I hesitated for a moment, George watching me as I dithered. "Please, Katie," he said quietly. "He's a wreck. He needs _you_."

I felt my feet move before I realised I'd decided to follow him. _Easier than breathing_.

I dodged boxes of Merlin-knows-what, and weaved between shelves, delving deeper and deeper into the stockrooms until I found him, sitting on a box, his back to me, another drink in his hands, his head ducked. I sat on a box beside him quietly, causing him to half-look up. He let out a chuckle when he realised it was me.

I remained silent, unsure of what to say, until he took another long drink of what must've been a quadruple whiskey.

"Is this normal now?" I asked lightly, nodding to the drink.

"It's become a bit of a regular occurrence, yeah," he said, his voice low.

"How does your coach like that?"

"He understands."

I let it lie, falling silent for another few seconds, before adding softly, "Happy Birthday."

"I don't feel so happy."

"Birthday, then."

He threw me a half-smirk. "Thanks."

Silence again, lasting slightly longer than the last. I watched him as he took another sip of the alcohol, barely even flinching as it burned down his throat. He looked at me properly for the first time after the heat in his oesophagus subsided, his eyes slightly glazed from intoxication.

"You look beautiful, Kates."

I blushed deeply. "You look like shit," I told him, taking the glass from him and setting it on the floor at the other side of me, taking in the obvious sleep deprivation and general dishevel of my former friend, and frowning.

He laughed, and nodded. "I suppose I do."

"She's not worth killing yourself over, Oliver."

He stared at me, all humour gone, for a long time, before finally speaking. "I know. It's just difficult to draw the line under it all." I nodded, sympathetically. He dropped his eyes from mine, his brow furrowing. "Katie ..."

"Mmm?"

"Have you ever known something that would cause another person immense pain, and if you told them, they would hate you for it forever?"

My wrinkled my brow. "No. Why?"

"Because I do," he informed me, staring at the floor.

"Oh."

"And I don't know what to do."

"Do they need to know? Is it serious?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's really serious."

"Who is it?" I asked, ducking my head to try and meet his eyes, when suddenly he looked up, the oddest of looks in his eyes.

"It was Davies," he told me bluntly.

"The person you're going to hurt is my boyfriend?" I questioned sharply.

"No, Katie. The man I found in my bed with my fiancée was your boyfriend."

What? I stared at him hard for at least a minute, neither of us saying anything. He matched my gaze unfalteringly, resolute and absolute.

"You're trying to hurt me."

"No," he said, shaking his head definitely. "No, Katie."

"You are! Of course you are! You did it at school, and you're doing it now!"

"Have I ever purposefully hurt you, Katie? _Really_?"

"Yes! Just five seconds ago!"

"I'm not lying. I've never lied to you."

"We haven't spoken in God knows how long, Oliver. How the hell do you expect me to trust you?"

"I've never done anything to lead to you distrusting me and you know it," Oliver said, anger leaking into his voice. "I'm hurt in all of this, too. I loved Cassie. It's not like I'm making this up just to hurt you. Why would I bother? As you say, we haven't spoken in years. Why would I bother going out of my way to hurt you, and in the process, hurt myself? Don't be so naïve, Katie."

"Roger wouldn't hurt me like that. I know he loves me. I _know_ he does."

"I thought Cassie loved me, too," he told me, his eyes saddening, his features softening. Mine just hardened.

"You can't expect me to believe this, Oliver."

His eyes bored into mine, fierceness and aggression taking over his features. "I saw them.

I saw them in my bed. I don't care if you believe me. You can stay blind to it all you like. I damn well wish I could. Every time I fucking close my eyes, I see them. He's already stole so much from me, and yet he still takes more. I hate him. I despise him. I want him _dead_."

With his last words, anger dissipated into sheer emotionlessness, his voice morphing into wonderment. I stared at him in shock, my heart clenching tightly at every word he voiced. Breath left me, and I slid to the floor, all strength zapped out of my body, as if by taser.

Oliver was on the floor with me, kneeling beside me, worried and distraught. "I'm sorry," he kept repeating, dithering, not sure whether to touch me or not.

"What am I … what am I supposed to do? Now?" My sentences were breaking, but I couldn't fit them together, my breath short.

He hushed me, getting over himself and taking my face in his hands. My heart ached as I looked at him, pain mounting horrendously in my chest, choking me. "Kates," he told me, stroking my cheeks; ridding them of tears, stroking my hair; keeping it out of my eyes. "Kates, it doesn't feel like it to you, now, but you're stronger than me. I made it through this … this cutting out of my heart and putting it back in the wrong place. If I came out breathing, you will. You can get through this. You can fight this."

"I love him, Oliver. How could he do this?"

"I know," he said, gathering me in his arms, crushing my dress, but I was further than beyond caring. All I wanted was for him to hold me tighter. Hold me together. Because I could feel parts of me breaking away and crashing at my feet, my heart being the first to fall.

He walked me home, albeit unsteadily. We had both drank enough alcohol to be tipsy, and I was a mess of tears and shaking. Though, the crying had stopped, eventually, due to a lot of coaxing from Oliver. His hand rested on the small of my back, my purse safely in his hands.

"I don't hate you for telling me," I informed his quiet demeanour.

"I do. I hate myself for finding out in the first place."

"So you'd rather you didn't know, and you carried on planning a farce-wedding?"

He thought for a moment, before admitting, "No. I suppose not."

"Why did you decide to tell me?"

"I didn't." Then he sighed and thought again, is hand brushing my side lightly. "You needed to know. It wasn't fair that you didn't, no matter how much pain it caused you."

"You wouldn't have told me back in school."

"It wasn't as important, then."

"You didn't hurt me at school. That was your thing, remember? Protect all to do with Bell."

"Yes, well, sometimes you need to hurt people to protect them."

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know."

We carried on walking past all the shuttered shops slowly, prolonging our conversation as much as possible.

"What do I do now?" I asked him, tears forming at my lashes once more, coming to a halt outside my flat.

He cradled my face in his hands and wiped the tears away, tenderly. "That's up to you, Kates. You either stay with him, or, well ..."

"Or I break up with him," I filled in, meeting his eyes intensely.

"Or that," he agreed softly, his eyes darkening as he looked at me.

The mood of the subject shifted quickly as I stepped closer to him, looking up at his face, apprehension and nervousness to my proximity showing plainly.

"It would have been as easy as breathing, once upon a time, Oliver, if you'd have just told me," I whispered.

His hands trailed down my back and rested on my hips, pulling me even closer to his body, which was exuding heat in ripples. "Can I tell you now?" My actions were fuelled by alcohol and shock, and his was certainly fuelled by alcohol. I could feel his breath on my cheek as he dipped his face to my ear, and whispered, "I love you."

My arms were around his neck in an instant, and I pulled myself up to meet his lips with mine – finally. My heart exploded and spread throughout my body, fission and fusion and combustion all at once. The most powerful reaction imaginable. Bliss. He cradled my head, holding me there, attached to him in the most perfect way, his other hand desperately pulling at me, trying to feel more – if it were physically possible. My hands dragged though his hair as he pushed me against my front door, causing a moan to escape me. The involuntary noise seemed to frenzy him, until he pulled starkly away, leaving me against the door, stunned, my chest heaving, my body longing him to return.

He had his hands in his hair, five foot away from me, his eyes tightly shut. "What am I doing?" he yelled at himself, pulling at his hair.

"Oliver, I..." I couldn't string words together, my body still in shock.

"I'm so sorry," he told me, opening his eyes and fixing me with his gaze. "I am _so sorry_."

And with that, he took off down the Alley, leaving me to stare dumbly after him.

_Wow_.


	33. Chapter 33

I woke the next morning with a sick feeling in my stomach, which was nothing to do with the volume of alcohol that I'd consumed. A gnawing, nauseous, overwhelming feeling. I lay still in my bed, paralysed by the emotion. I listened for the girls, but the flat was silent. Either they were still asleep (which was unlikely, I realised, as it was one o'clock in the afternoon), or they'd stayed at the twins' the night before. Perhaps they had seen me leaving with Oliver and taken me to be a cheater.

And a contributing factor to the sickness I felt was that if they _had_ thought that, then they were absolutely right.

I covered my face with my hands, and found that my cheeks were wet with tears. I hadn't even realised that I had been crying. I sighed, dragging myself out of bed and over to my dressing table, where I slumped down. I stared at my face, with black smudged all over. What surprised me, other than myself looking exactly how I expected, was that something had changed.

Nothing had changed in that reflection for as long as I could remember. To myself, I'd always looked the same. But now … my face looked hard. My powdery eyes looked like green jasper – dynamic, swirling, living. I started, taking the change in, ignoring the tear-streaks veining my cheeks in black. I sat and stared in wonderment, the sickness slowly dissipating. What had changed?

Well, I knew that Roger was cheating on me, and that our relationship was over. That had changed. That had changed everything. Oliver and I had … I shut my new eyes and berated myself for thinking about that too soon, blocking out the images and heat it invoked.

Why had that happened? Why did I say anything? I was stupid – it was too soon, there was too much pain, and too much pressure, and too much alcohol. It shouldn't have happened like that. It was the first time I'd ever kissed him.

I couldn't help the word 'bliss' slipping into my mind. I smothered it, mashing my palms to my electric eyes, my mascara streaking further. I couldn't think like that. I had things to do – stuff to sort out. My life felt like it was crashing around me, and the tears began again.

That's how they found me, my hands covering my purging eyes, black running between my fingers, criss-crossing like vines down my arms.

"Katie? What's _wrong?" _Alicia asked, panicked.

I dropped my hands immediately, and reached for my wand, clearing my face, hands and arms of make up. I looked into the mirror to see them standing behind me, equal looks of concern plastered on their faces.

"I, uhh ..." I cursed myself, and cursed the shake in my voice. I cleared my throat, probably in vain, to try and steady myself. "I have to break up with Roger."

A cacophony of questions spewed henceforth, and I closed my eyes. My head felt cloudy, but it was nothing to do with the alcohol I'd consumed the night before. It felt like millions of microscopic diamonds, whirring and buzzing in my head, scratching and throwing glimmers of languid rainbow into my vision. My head spun, and I opened my eyes.

"He cheated on me. With Oliver's fiancée."

My two best friends sat down.

…

I didn't tell them about what happened with Oliver outside our front door. I was too ashamed of it, just as he seemed to be. I grimaced as I recalled his face. Like he _regretted_ it.

"You doing alright, sweet-pea?" Angelina asked me, her hand settling on my shoulder as she placed a fresh cup of coffee on the kitchen table in front of me.

"Yeah," I said, with more conviction than I felt. "Thanks."

She sat down with me, placing her own cup of coffee down next to mine. "So … when are you going to do it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

Angelina was silent for a moment, before quietly saying, "I'm really sorry this happened to you, Katie."

I dropped my eyes to the table. "Yeah. Me too." My eyes filled with tears yet again, and I poured coffee down my throat. I smiled in watercolour at Angelina, and she took hold of my hand in comfort.

"Everything will be okay, Katie. I promise." I nodded, trying to believe it, but I couldn't bring myself to. I felt like I was drowning.

She sat with me for a few minutes, telling me about her day. Little anecdotes about Fred, and the sweet things he'd said about her the night before. I concentrated on her voice, praying it would keep me from my internal monologue, or rather, mantra of 'cheat, cheat, cheat, cheat, cheat …'

Because even though _he_ had cheated on _me_, my morals still hated me for doing the exact same thing. I wasn't that person. I wasn't even that person when I was drunk, or when I was hurting. I just wasn't. And yet …

Angelina smiled at me as she finished her stories, and greeted Alicia as she entered the room, having returned from a shopping-binge.

"I bought you something, sweetie," Alicia told me, placing her many shopping bags at my feet.

"Oh?" I asked, looking up at her. She nodded, her wavy hair swinging forward in her excitement.

She bent down and produced a bundle of material, and handed it to me proudly. It was an emerald green lace, with the same coloured silk underneath. I quirked an eyebrow at her, and she took the material off of me impatiently and let it drop. It was beautiful – an emerald lace dress which must've been from the 1980s. The shoulders slightly puffed out, down to quarter-length sleeves. The body was smooth and fitted in, falling to mid-thigh.

"Wow. That's gorgeous, 'Licia!"

"I know," she grinned. "I found it in this really nice retro boutique in Muggle London, and I thought it would go with your eyes."

"Aw, Alicia, thank you," I said as she placed the beautifully delicate garment on my lap. "It's absolutely amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," she said, sounding pleased with herself. "I'm glad you're _smiling_."

I sighed, hitching my smile up higher. "It was just a bit of a shock, that's all guys. I'm fine, really."

"Are you going to confront him face to face, or ..?" Alicia asked timidly.

I looked up at her and smiled again. "Yeah – if I can get hold of him. Em … has Oliver spoken to the twins this morning?"

"Nnno, not that I know of, Kat," Angelina said, glancing at Alicia who shrugged. "Why?"

"Well, he was pretty upset last night," I lied quickly. "Just wondered if he'd spoken to them." Really, I just wondered whether he'd told them about what happened outside my door. I stoked the material on my lap in admiration and smiled again.

…

I stared at the blank sheet of parchment before me, fiddling with the quill in my hand. My tidy scrawl had already depicted the name 'Roger' in the top left corner. From that, I was stuck. What did I say? I've been trying for weeks to just _see_ him, and he always had an excuse, no matter how pathetic I made my letters. I sighed and glared at the name. Did he even deserve to see me again?

No, but _I_ deserved to see _him_ again. I deserved apologies. Thousands of them. I deserved to hear him grovel. But would he? Did he care for me at all? I mean, over the past year, he'd asked me to marry him on seven different occasions – admittedly, usually in bed. Surely that must have meant something? No?

I sighed again, and wrote the only two words that would make him come running.

_I know._

…

He was at the door the next morning, the letter in is hand. I watched him approach from my perch on the windowsill, steadying myself for the emotional turmoil I was about to endure. The doorbell rang, and I sat for a little while longer, sipping at my coffee daintily, before I eventually buzzed him up. I sat back down and waited.

He walked into the flat warily, the letter neatly folded in his hand. He didn't make eye contact with me as he made his way across my living room, and sat down at the kitchen table. He placed the letter in front of him and then, looking up at me, he said "Hi, Katie." His choice of words angered me, but I continued sipping my coffee, regarding him passively.

"Hi Roger. I haven't seen you in a while."

"I've … had practice. Katie, what's this letter about?" His voice shook slightly, and I fought a satisfied smile.

"Got anything to tell me?"

His eyes searched mine for a while, trying to find answers, but I was sure to not give any away. I stared back at him without emotion. He frowned and got up, crossing the kitchen floor to stand in front of me. "I've missed you." I felt anger burst across my face before I could stop it. "I have," he said, mistaking my anger for disbelief. He tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear and kissed me on the forehead.

"Yeah?" I asked. "So why haven't you come to see me?"

"I've had practice, Katie. You know how it is."

"No, I don't. Tell me."

His blue eyes searched my green as I said it. He knew that Quidditch wasn't what I was talking about, now. "Your letter ..."

"Yeah?" I said roughly, glaring up at him, unable to keep my expression under control. He kept silent, and stroked my hair. His jaw clenched, and his eyes went wide. He was panicking. "Just, tell me," I said harshly. "Get it over with, and we can both move on." He shook his head. He took my face in his hands and kissed me softly, but I pushed him away, squeezing my eyes shut. "_Say it_."

"I love you, Katie. I love _you_. Don't … Please don't do this," he said, emotion filling his voice, is hands shaking in my hair.

"I didn't, Roger. _You_ did this. Please, just tell me. I don't deserve this."

"I know," he said, dropping his head. "I know you don't. It was so stupid. A complete mistake. I got drunk with the guys and … and she was there, and … Katie, I love you so much. Please."

I shook my head. "She was engaged, Roger. _We_ should have been engaged. Do you think matters that you were _drunk?_ It's an easy excuse, and I don't accept it. I can't."

"Katie," he whispered, his head dropping onto my shoulder.

"No, Roger. It's … it's just too much. The fact that I had to find out from _Oliver_, as well -"

He pulled away from me immediately, recoiling. "Wood? _Wood?"_

"She was his fiancée!"

"_Wood _ told you? Well? _Did he?" _His eyes flashed manically as he clenched his fists.

"Yes, Oliver told me."

"_When?_"

"I went to his birthday party – it was two days ago," I said confidently, glaring up at him. "And right about this second, you do not have a right to be shouting about it, so sit the _fuck_ back down." He stared at me in shock, but stepped away from me to sit in his original place at the kitchen table. I dropped my gaze from his stunned one, to look at the floor. I continued in a quiet voice, "Why did you do it?" He didn't answer, and I looked up to see him staring at the wood of the table. "I deserve an answer, if nothing, Davies." He winced at the use of his second name, and exhaled as if to steady himself.

"I don't know why I did it, Katie."

"Was it just that one time?"

"Yes," he said, looking up at me, honesty in his eyes.

"And you knew that Oliver broke up with Cassie straight after he found you both?"

"She called me, yeah."

I felt my eyes water, and I looked up at the ceiling. "So you answer when _she_ calls you?"

"I was … completely ashamed, Katie. I couldn't face you. I _love_ you – so much. It kills me to have hurt you like this."

"It doesn't matter, though, does it – that you regret it? It still happened. You still cheated. You _cheated_, Roger."

"I know."

"Nothing you say can make this right."

"I know."

"I'd like you to leave, please." It wasn't as easy as that, of course. His watering eyes met mine, and my tears fell. "I _need_ you to leave," I choked through a sob. He crossed the room, and held me – and I let him. "I trusted you, Roger," I whispered into his chest, and his arms squeezed me tighter.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said, and I could tell that he was crying too.

"Please go," I told him.

"I can't. Not if this is it. I can't go if this is the last time I can hold you."

"You have to. Please. I can't be with someone who hurts me like you have. I need you to go, and I don't want you to come back." The tears were freely flowing down my cheeks, now, as Roger clung to me tighter. "Roger, please."

He let out a choked sob as he pulled away, stroking my hair. "I hate myself for hurting you like this. But we can … we can get through it, Katie. We can't just throw away five years of … of love and devotion over a _stupid_, _brainless, gutless _mistake of mine! I can't let this happen. I can't walk out of here, knowing that this is it." Tears leaked from his eyes and down the sides of his handsome face.

"I was blaming myself, Roger. I blamed myself for the distance that has ended up between us, when it was _you_ who caused that distance, and that upset, and worry, and pain, all for _fucking sexual urges while you were pissed_!" Tears were falling faster as I balled my fists at my sides. "How can we make that work? I _hate_ you."

At those three words, Roger dropped his hands from my hair and dragged them through his own in angst. He gave me one last pathetic look before the door closed behind him.

I curled up on the windowsill and cried for hours.


	34. Chapter 34

"Fred?" I called, the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes bell screaming above me. "George?"

"Oh, Katie, what a … what a lovely surprise!" Fred grinned, only slightly faltering as he rolled towards me on a ladder affixed to the shelves. "What brings you to this end of the Alley?" He hopped down and landed in front of me. "Pastille?"

"Err … no thanks, Fred. I'd rather not be throwing up for the next hour."

He just grinned and threw an arm around my shoulders, leading me towards the back of the shop. "George! We have a visitor!"

George shouted from somewhere in the back, "If it's Oliver, tell him to man up and talk to her!"

Fred laughed nervously shooting me an apprehensive look, offering me the chair behind the register that the twins' shop-hand Verity usually occupied. "It's Katie, Gred!"

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so?" George beamed, emerging from the storeroom, carrying three heavy-looking boxes. "The blackout powder, Forge. We've completely run out in the display upstairs." He dumped the boxes on the floor. "But I think it's time for a break. You've caught us at a dead moment, Bell. It's been heaving all day!"

"I'll flip the sign," Fred said, taking off towards where I'd come in.

"Day off from the hospital?"

I nodded, smiling at George. "I thought I'd pay you both a visit."

"Which translates as: Ange and Alicia are at work and you were bored." I smiled as sweetly as I could. George laughed and hopped up to sit on the counter. "It's fine. It's always a pleasure to see you."

"I actually wanted to ask you guys something," I told him as Fred returned.

"Oh yeah?" Fred asked, leaning on the counter. "Go ahead, Katie-kins. We're all ears – well … three's enough, right?"

George clipped his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "When will the jokes end?"

"Never, bro. Never."

"Go on, Katie," George sighed.

"Umm … Has, err …"

Fred struggled to hide a grin, but George was dead serious when he looked at me. "He told us, yeah."

I dropped my eyes and stared at my knees.

"It was a long time coming, in my opinion," Fred said.

"Please, don't … Just don't." I sighed, and looked up at them both. "What did he say?"

"That you persuaded him out of a suicidal depression just by being in the same room as him again," George said gently. "He's not going to tell anyone about it, Katie. Please don't worry about that."

"I'm not," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not worried about that at all. It's … guys, I was still with Roger when it happened, I ..."

Fred took my hand. "Don't feel guilty."

"I can't help it. It's who I am. No matter if he deserved to be hurt or not."

George jumped down from the counter and crouched in front of me. "Katie …"

"I need to talk to him," I decided quickly, my eyes flashing at him. They both eyed me worriedly. Then something changed in Fred's eyes as realisation hit him.

"You don't think … You don't think that Oliver thinks _badly_ of you because of -?"

"Where does he live?" I snapped. "Or his number, or … something. Please."

"I don't know where he's at just now, what with the break-up and everything. I have his number," George told me. He got up and fetched a card. I saw blue and Puddlemere, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"He has cards to tell people he's Puddlemere's Keeper?"

"That was exactly our reaction."

"Thanks, guys," I told them sincerely.

George hesitated for a second, before he spoke once again. "He loves you, Katie. Nothing on this earth could make him feel any different. If you were a bloody … _Death Eater_ or something, he'd still love you."

"Then it's love beyond reason."

"Exactly," they both said in unison, sincerity in their eyes.

I sighed. "I didn't want to hear that."

"Sorry, Kates. But we think there's been enough lying around it. Don't you?" Fred asked, me.

I dropped my eyes from his. "I suppose you're right. I still can't be with Oliver, though. I mean … I'm going to speak to him about what happened, but ..."

"Wait … wait, hold up, _what_? What do you mean you can't be with him, Katie? The man's in love with you! He's _always_ loved you! Don't you love _him_?"

I glared at Fred. "Of course I do, Fred. Of course I fucking do! But I also _just_ broke up with my boyfriend whom I'd been dating since I was _fifteen_ years old, and loved very much until he slept with an utter _whore_ and ruined everything! I was _fine_ with the way things were. I didn't _need _Oliver at all, like you all thought. And I'll continue to live without him, because my life was _so_ much easier without the emotional drain that was a punch-happy, conceited ," I said showing them the business card in disgust, "fucking _Quaffle-loving arsehole!"_

Both twins leaned back slightly at my outburst, eyebrows disappearing into their flaming hair. "Whoa," Fred said quietly.

"Sorry …" I said, shaking my head at myself. I held my head in my hands, my elbows resting on my knees. "I'm sorry. But you guys don't understand how _shit_ this is."

"We might not have been through it ourselves, babe, but seeing you go through it is bad enough, really, " George said, placing his hands on my forearms. "You're like a little sister to us … Well, less evil than Ginny, really. She's a miniature devil!"

"She's seventeen now, guys. Not so miniature."

"Yeah well, she had stunted growth when she was a kid," Fred chimed. "She's got the stature of a goblin!"

"The face of one too, " George grinned.

"You guys are mean. And anyway, you've got the same genes."

"Yes, well, we obviously got the superior ones out of the whole family. Gin, Ron and Percy got the shit."

I laughed and shook my head at them both. "Cruel, cruel brothers."

They grinned the same cheeky grin.

"So … thanks for the ..." I held Oliver's card up, grimacing, "and I guess I'll see one of you later sneaking out of one of the girls' rooms?"

"That'd be me tonight, sweetheart," George said guiltily, kissing me on the cheek before I stood up.

"I'll see you awkwardly tonight, then," I said, smirking, kissing Fred's cheek also, and waving to them both before exiting the shop with a scream of the bell.

I sighed when I was outside, and tucked the business card into my pocket, making my way slowly back home.

...

The hollow ring of Oliver's phone reverberated in my head, my hand shaking, holding the phone up to my ear. The wood of my bedroom door was cold on my back, and the floor was uncomfortable, but I couldn't be interrupted in this conversation. And despite the locking charm I'd placed on my door, the girls tended to ignore them.

My breath caught abruptly, almost causing me to choke. He'd answered with a rustle of the line.

"Wood."

It took me a second to formulate a response in my head, and a few seconds longer to wrap my mouth around the syllables.

"Oliver." My voice sounded breathy and girly, and I berated myself silently. I cleared my throat and squared myself, business-like. "Oliver," I repeated. "It's Katie."

"I-I know," he told me. "Hey."

"Hey," I replied. "Um. I got your card from the twins."

I received a laugh. "Like it?"

"I wouldn't like to comment," I said, smirking.

"Yeah, my P.A had them made. They come in handy."

"What for? Picking up women in bars at are so inebriated that they don't realise a professional Quidditch player is standing there hitting on them?"

"Something like that," he replied. I could hear his smirk over the phone. "Why did you want my card?"

I faltered on the question. I had many reasons for wanting his number. To explain. To keep contact. To just … hear him. To have him hear me.

"I wanted to … Well, I guess I … "

"Kates?" The confusion in his voice made my heart twinge, and I sighed.

"We shouldn't have kissed on your birthday, Oliver."

The line was silent for a long moment. "Yeah," he said eventually. "I'm sorry."

"No, I .. uh, don't apologise. I just … it's not that sort of conversation."

"Oh?"

"I just wanted to … well, I was still dating Roger at the time, and I wanted to say that I'm … I'm not usually that person. To cheat, I mean."

The line was silent again. I waited with bated breath for his next statement. He took a deep breath. "Katie, you weren't actually …" He exhaled heavily, and I imagined him looking at me sternly as he said, "You weren't worried that I thought the same of you as I do Cassie and Davies, were you?"

I stayed silent.

He was quiet for a moment. "Are you at home?" he asked of me.

"Uh," I stuttered. "Uh, yeah, I am."

"Right. Can I take you out so we can talk about this properly? I hate talking over the phone."

Hysteria bubbled in my throat. "Uh … I ..."

"I'm completely sober. I promise not to pin you against _any_ doors." There was a laugh in his voice, and I found myself laughing too.

"Okay. Where?"

"I'll knock your door in about ten minutes."

"Okay," I said, a little breathlessly. "I'll see you then."

"Yeah. Bye, Kates."

"Bye."

We both hung up, and I hit the side of my head with the phone. Why had I agreed to that? I was in no way, shape, or form, ready for an afternoon alone with Oliver Wood. No way. _No way_. And yet I agreed to it? Why the hell did I do that?

I pulled on boots, and brushed my hair, grimacing at myself in the mirror. I was such an idiot, seriously.

The door went within five minutes and I swore. I grabbed my purse and bolted to the door, wrenching it open. He stood there, in all his glory, hair falling messily into his eyes, hands nervously in pockets, one corner of his mouth pulled up in a half-smirk.

"Hey Kates."

I had to take a breath to steady myself at the sound of him, again. "You got here fast."

"I was at the twins' shop."

"Oh," I said a little pointlessly, standing in my doorway awkwardly.

He looked at me for a moment before saying. "Okay, then. Shall we go?"

"Yeah," I said, pulling the door closed behind me and locking it. "Where to?"

"Coffee?" he asked, grinning. I grinned back.

"You know me too well."

He laughed, and we headed off in the direction of the nearest coffee shop – Grey's.

"So," he said, sliding a black coffee towards me, and sitting opposite. "I guess now should be when I apologise, no matter if you don't want it – I'm sorry for getting drunk and kissing you like that."

I shook my head, taking a sip of my drink. "Don't apologise. You were upset."

He bowed his head slightly. "Yeah."

"So I broke up with Roger," I blurted. I berated myself as he gave a slow smirk, staring down at his own coffee. He checked himself, wiping his expression clean and looking up at me.

"I'm sorry for that, too."

"It's not your fault, Oliver."

"I'm still sorry."

I looked at him from beneath my eyelashes, his face sincere. "You know the same pain."

"Yeah, I do."

"Where are you living, now?" I said, concerned.

Oliver laughed a little. "At a friend's house. Liam Wyatt?"

"Your Chaser?"

"That's him. He's letting me stay in his spare room."

"And Cassie?"

He took a moment to answer that, the name obviously bothered him. "In the four-bedroomed house I bought her a year ago."

"Why, Oliver? It's so much money … and far more than she deserves after what she did to you."

"I know," he nodded. "But her parents emigrated to America a few years back, and she has nowhere else to go. I still have some compassion."

I nodded, understanding.

"So," he said, as if starting afresh. "You're working at St. Mungos."

"Yes, I am."

"Happy?"

"Happy enough."

"You still want to medic for a team, then?"

I smiled, knowing that Oliver still knew me like no other. "Yes."

"So … why haven't you?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee and raising his eyebrows at me.

"Why haven't I, what?" I asked, confused, tilting my head to the left slightly.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Why haven't you become a medic for a team, Kates?"

I stuttered illegibly for a while, him watching me, enjoying the fact that I had no answer for him. "I … I've never been good enough?"

"You've never tried, you mean."

"Well … well, no I haven't, but ..."

"There's a position open at Puddlemere." He grinned as my mouth dropped open.

"You're not actually suggesting ..?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting, Kathryn. Think about it, at least."

_A/N: Sorry for its lateness, and its abrupt end … started getting too long, and I realised it'd been forever since I posted, so I churned this out quick. :)_


	35. Chapter 35

"I … I will. I guess."

"You fixed up my hand perfectly, by the way. Not a stitch of stiffness or anything. Even Pomfrey couldn't fix broken fingers like that, Kates. You have a gift."

I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee. "It's just how I was taught."

"You're modest."

"I'm a medi-witch. I fix broken bones. It's what I chose to do with my life – I chose to help people, cure people."

He smiled at me. "You're still the same."

"What?" My brow furrowed as I looked at him.

"You haven't changed. I'm so glad the world hasn't turned you cynical and bitter."

"There's still time."

"I don't think that'll matter in your case. You're too good."

I sighed, staring down into my emptying mug. "You have too high an opinion of me. It makes me feel inadequate."

"Katie," he said. As if in slow motion, his hand brushed mine, and our eyes connected like it was a 1930s film. He removed his hand from mine as if he'd been electrocuted, and once again wrapped it around his coffee-cup. "You're wonderful." His voice was different to what I was used to, and this shocked me even more than the electricity in our touch. He looked thoughtful for a second, the mood of his conversation shifting dramatically. "It wasn't like this before. The other night, or at school. What's going on?"

It wasn't a question I could answer, and my eyes dropped from his once more. I wasn't even sure if he was looking for an answer, but I could feel his gaze on me as a stared down at the black liquid, watching as wisps of steam crept up past my eyes.

"I'm not ready for this," I told him in a whisper, unable to meet his eyes. "I can't feel anything yet. I haven't mourned." He stayed silent, and I looked up at him. "But I've missed you. Maybe that's what's changed. We've missed each other."

"I miss you more than anything I've ever lost in my life."

I looked at him, smiling softly, as I said, "Ditto."

"Can I have my Kates back?"

My sad eyes met his. "If only it were as simple as that."

"It could be."

I shook my head. "We're not children any more, Oliver. Nothing is ever as simple as it should be."

He drained his coffee mug, and set it back down heavily. "I love you," he said roughly, his accent becoming thicker in his passion. "_I love you_. There is nothing in this world that's more simple to me. I'd quit Quidditch tomorrow to know that you loved me too."

The coffee shop abruptly quietened, and I ducked my head. "We should go."

He exhaled heavily, more with the intent to steady his emotions than out of anger. He nodded stiffly, standing up as I did, leaving the shop briskly.

We stepped out onto the bright street, the winter sun glaring into our eyes. Oliver was silent next to me, and my heart hurt with what he had said. It was a miracle that I was still standing, the dulling affect of alcohol not being present this confession. I took a breath in a vain attempt to calm myself, and stopped him by the arm. He turned to face me, his face tragic. "Oliver, I can't be who you need me to be right now. I'm not the way I used to be, and you need _her_ to love you, not me. The past five years has changed me in ways you couldn't realise. And I still love Roger, despite him breaking my heart – like you still love Cassie. We can't do this right now. All we'll do is hurt each other more. We both need time to heal."

He took his time in answering me, but in his usual style, it was blunt, and full of emotion. "You're so wrong."

"I know how I feel!" I shouted, immediately on the defence, and he knew it.

"Which is exactly why you're pushing me away, Katie. I know you."

"You don't," I told him, my eyes narrowing at him. "You don't, because if you did, you'd know that I've loved you for years, and you'd know that I'm not the same as I've always been, and you'd know when to walk away!"

"I came to your graduation. Did you see me?"

I opened my mouth wordlessly, jarred by his change in topic.

"I came to talk to you. I ended up running away from you before I had the chance to say what I came to say. Do you know what I came to tell you?"

I shook my head.

"I came to tell you that I was proud of you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I saw Davies, and I felt like there was an animal inside my chest, so I ran." He stepped towards me slowly. "I knew it was jealousy then, when I saw him kiss you. I hadn't seen you kiss someone else before, and it made me want to tear his throat out. It scared me. And it made me feel guilty. But I knew when to run, Katie."

I stared at him silently, terrified and ecstatic all at once, but refusing to allow either to float to the surface.

"And I know that if I walk away now, I won't see you again, unless I stalk you. And that sort of shit's time consuming. I'm a professional Quidditch player. I don't really have time to spare to do that sort of thing. But I will if you push me."

"You're threatening me?"

"It was a joke, actually. You used to be able to take those."

"It's been a while."

"Not my fault."

"I'm sorry? Not your fault? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You're the one who didn't want to be friends."

"Because you started fucking around with Princess _fucking _Pixie-dust!"

It was Oliver's turn to mouth wordlessly.

"I couldn't stand to look at you, Oliver. I felt like I had poison in my veins, and it was you, and you were killing me slowly every time you looked at her. Do you know how that made me feel?"

"I have some idea, yeah," he said, glaring at me.

"Then you know that the damage had already been done."

We stared at each other, seconds ticking by silently. I sighed and looked away.

"We can't, Oliver. Why can't you see that?"

"I don't want to see it."

"You have to. We both need some semblance of normality back into our lives before either of us enter back into a relationship."

"Can't we be friends?"

"That's never worked for us, has it? There's always been something, and now it's all out in the open – we both know how each other feels, so friendship wouldn't work."

"I hate this."

"It won't be forever," I said, my tone softening as I looked up at him. He was frowning in a sad way, and as I spoke, he took a few steps towards me. He stroked my hair, and then drew me into his arms, dropping a lingering kiss onto my forehead.

"I hope not," he whispered into my hair.

"I promise," I mumbled into his chest, fighting my urge to throw caution to the wind, and kiss him. But I kept myself together, and pulled away.

"I'll walk you home. I'm heading to the Leaky Cauldron. Drown my troubles and that."

I smiled sadly at him, and he reciprocated.

–

"Kathryn Bell? Please come in."

I wrung my hands nervously, before smoothing my navy pencil skirt and blue blouse as I stood up and followed the authoritative figure into their office.

"Please, sit down, Katie," the man who would be conducting my interview said, and I sat on the blue-cushioned straight-backed chair in front of the man's imposing desk. I watched as he rounded it and sat in the office chair, smiling at me. "My name is Philbert Deverill, but call me Phil. I'm Puddlemere's manager. It's lovely to finally meet you. I've heard so many good things."

All I could do was smile at him, feeling too sick to speak.

"As you may be aware, we've had some trouble finding a new Medi-witch to take Harrison's place after he retired. You can imagine how happy I was to hear that Wood knew someone up to the job! And massively over-qualified, might I say, also?" he beamed, reaching for my CV, which was open on his desk. "Katie, you could be a healer if you wanted. Why settle for a medic for Puddlemere?"

I recognised this question for what it was – a test. I smiled. "It's been my dream since I was a kid. I love Quidditch, and I love my job. It's my ideal life – to work for a team. And certainly a team that I love."

"Are you a fan?" he smirked.

"Oh, with an old friend on the team, how could I not be?" I laughed.

"Speaking of your old friend," he said, glancing over my shoulder at the door. "Wood!"

I froze. I hadn't seen Oliver for a good few months now, and I had had no contact with him at all until I received a scribbled note about the date and time of the interview he'd gotten me. I took a few deep breaths, praying Phil wouldn't notice my discomfort.

"You yelled?" I took another deep breath, hearing his voice sending chills down my spine. "Oh." I heard him say. I half-turned in my seat and nodded at him, not making eye-contact.

"I was just telling Katie, here, all the nice things you've told me about her," Phil told him, oblivious to both of our freak-outs.

"She's a good lass," he nodded. "Brilliant medic," he said, wiggling his fingers absent mindedly at his side.

"Quite. Quite. Do me a favour, Wood, and run and get Wilson. He should be here by now. And Andrews, if you can find him. Then you can join us, too."

"Uh, sure," Oliver said awkwardly, he said, shooting me a cautious glance, before disappearing from the doorway.

"Wilson is our other medic, and Andrews is our team Healer, you see."

I nodded in understanding.

"So, Wood tells me you're quite the Chaser, also."

I laughed a little bitterly. "I was, once, I guess. I haven't played in a long time."

"That's a shame. You were part of the famous Team Wood? I sent a scout to look at you, but you weren't playing."

"I was … erm, in my final year at Hogwarts, I spent a lot of time in St Mungoes."

"Oh?" Phil said, glancing down at my notes.

"I was cursed," I told him. "By accident. It was supposed to kill Dumbledore."

His eyes widened. "I read about you in the Prophet. I knew your name rung a bell … oh, excuse the pun." I smiled politely, as did he. "Ah. Here are the boys!"

I turned once more in my seat to see the three men enter. One older, with grey hair, strikingly blue eyes, and a kind smile. Another with ash blonde hair, tanned skin, dark eyes, and he was as tall as get-out. The other was Oliver, his eyes never meeting mine.

Phil stood up, as did I. "Katie, I'd like you to meet Richard Andrews, our Healer," he said, gesturing to the older of the three men. I took the hand he offered to me, and shook it.

"Lovely to meet you, Katie," Andrews said, smiling warmly. I smiled back, telling him the same.

"And this is Caelan Wilson, our resident Australian, and our very brilliant medic."

Wilson, unlike Andrews, didn't smile. He smouldered. He kissed my hand and left me blushing. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Katie." My thoughts stuttered as I blinked at him. "I've been a lone ranger for quite some time."

I gave him a nervous smile, and by chance, my eyes found Oliver. He was fuming. I glanced at my feet.

"Yes, exactly!" Phil said. "So? Shall we continue our little chat?"

We continued the interview, with Phil, Andrews and Wilson all asking me questions, and Oliver sitting silently next to me. When it all their questions ran out, they told me they'd be in touch, and I left Phil's office with a smile on my face. I knew he'd followed me before he spoke.

"They loved you, Kates." I turned to face him. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have imposed, but Phil ..."

"Don't worry about it," I said, smiling softly. "It was actually quite comforting having you there."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," he said, nodding. "So, how've you been?"

"Much better," I told him, and he smiled.

"I'm really glad to hear it."

"Thank you, by the way – for the interview."

"It was nothing, honestly."

I stood awkwardly in front of him for a heartbeat, then threw myself into his arms.

"No. _Thank you_."

He laughed and hugged me back. "It's all about being well connected. Stick with me, kid, and you'll be fine."

"You have no idea what this means if I get this job," I said into his chest, feeling the heat rise to my face at the close proximity.

"I do," he said into my hair, his voice careful and quiet. "You've been dreaming of this for forever. And with an interview like that, I can't see you not getting the job."

I grinned. "Don't jinx it."

"Of course not," he said, letting me go. "Just a word of warning," he said quietly, his face serious and stony. "Watch Wilson like a hawk."

I shot him a confused look.

"Just trust me," he said. Then he relaxed. "I better go. Practice started ten minutes ago. Just as well I was with Phil, or Thompson would be skinning me alive right about now."

"_You_? Late for _practice?_ Unheard of!" I laughed.

"I know. Insanity. I'll hopefully see you soon, Kates," he said, pecking my cheek and sauntering off towards the field. I felt the spot he had kissed burn a little brighter than my already flaming cheeks.

I turned to see Phil's receptionist shooting me a death-glare. I just smiled sweetly at her, and left with the stupid smile the interview and Oliver had plastered on my face like a prize-idiot, and I didn't even care.


	36. Chapter 36

I woke with a start a few weeks later, sun streaming in my bedroom window, and a Mr. George Weasley perched at the end of my bed.

"MORNING!" he beamed. "You've got mail!"

I glared at him from my position under the duvet. "And?"

"It's blue."

"Shit! Shit, seriously?" I said, springing from my bed and lunging for the door. I scrabbled at the door frame to propel myself into the kitchen at greater speed. "Where?"

Alicia started laughing as she caught sight of me. I decided to be embarrassed later, as I spotted the pale blue envelope with the golden crossed bulrushes printed in the top left corner sitting innocently on the counter, a smaller white envelope alongside it. I halted, the mania draining from me immediately.

"Katie, are you okay?" George asked from behind me. Alicia stopped laughing at my dishevelled state and placed a hand on my arm.

"It's alright, sweetheart."

I felt the colour drain from my features. What if it was bad news? What if they didn't like me as much as I'd thought?

"I think I need to sit down," I heard myself say. I sat at the table slowly, and the Puddlemere letter was placed in front of me.

I fiddled with the edges, biting my lip.

"Whatever it says, Kat, there's other teams. The dream isn't over," George told me.

"I know," I said, tearing up. "But who likes rejection?"

"I know, pet," Alicia said, stroking my back.

I took a deep breath, and picked the envelope up, my hands shaking terribly. It opened easily, and, with another breath, I retrieved the letter from inside, printed on the same blue paper. And then my heart almost exploded.

"Guys?" I said, reading the letter from Phil for the third time, to make sure I hadn't read wrong.

"What's the verdict?"

"I'm in," I said, my eyes overflowing with tears.

"Oh my God, Katie! That's so amazing!" Alicia squealed and jumped up to hug me. George joined in on the hug.

"You're a team medic! Puddlemere's _medic_, Katie!"

"Oh my God," I said, stunned, tears pouring down my face.

"And I'll bet that other letter is from a certain Puddlemere Keeper," George grinned as he and his girlfriend released me from their embrace.

"Yes, I'll bet he knows already."

I smiled and reached for the other letter, but frowned when I caught sight of the script on the front. "That isn't Oliver's writing, guys." I opened the letter.

_Katie,_

_First of all, a massive congratulations are in order, I hear. You were by far the best candidate we had, and I'm looking forward to working with you! I'm sure you could teach me a few things, with the CV you've got._

_On another note, the team and the 'backstagers' as I like to call us, are all going out for drinks this Saturday, if you'd like to come? It'll be a proper chance to get to know all of us – alcohol doesn't lie! And I'd be happy to pick you up and introduce you to everyone._

_Hope to see you then, and once again, congrats!_

_Caelan x_

I was biting my lip again, and Alicia and George noticed. "Who's it from?" George asked.

"Umm … Caelan Wilson, the other medic for the team."

"Why does that sound like that's a bad thing?"

"Oliver warned me to steer clear. He said 'watch Wilson like a hawk'."

"Womaniser?" Alicia queried.

"I think so. I also think he sort of half-asked me out."

"Wow. Quick off the mark. What are you going to say?"

I bit my lip harder. "I don't know. I don't want to make it awkward."

"You also don't want to jilt Wood. Again," George said. I ducked my head.

"Yeah. That." I sighed. "He must know. Why hasn't he written to me?"

Alicia and George both shrugged. "No idea, sweetie. He's being really careful with you, and taking no chances. I don't know why."

Just then, the doorbell rang. George went to answer it, with Alicia muttering "He acts like it's his house, you know …" to me. I laughed.

"You're the one who keeps inviting him." We laughed, and I got up to get coffee, pouring a mug from the pot on the counter.

"Hey, Katie. I think this means that Wood heard about you getting the job," George yelled from the front door. "Hey guys, can I get your autographs?"

I frowned, placing the coffee mug down and looked down the hall, bewilderment suddenly replacing the frown. There, in my hallway, stood the entire Puddlemere Quidditch team, all holding various Puddlemere paraphernalia, with Oliver in the middle, holding the largest bouquet of white roses that I'd ever seen.

"Wow," Alicia whispered from behind me. I heard myself repeating the sentiment.

"Sorry," Oliver said, smirking at me. "Did we wake you?" Some of the team laughed, and the rest looked at me in pity, namely the only female on the team, and what seemed to be the youngest male.

I recalled my dishevel, and felt Alicia's fingers trying to calm my bush-hair. My face burned up, and I pulled at my pyjama top, thanking all celestial entities that I could think of that I'd worn my new set the night before.

"She looks cute. Leave her alone, Wood." It was the female who spoke. Puddlemere's centre Chaser, Joscelind Wadcock. She sent me a smile, and elbowed the man who sniggered behind her.

"Cute is what she is, certainly," Oliver said smoothly, and I grew increasingly scarlet. "Anyway, when we turned up for practice this morning, we heard the good news, and came to congratulate you, Kates." He beamed his lovely smile. "We come bearing the entire Puddlemere shop, and roses. White are your favourite, right?"

I nodded, still too stunned to speak.

"Bless her," one of the Beaters, Lewis Jones, said.

"You're definitely right about her, mate," Liam Wyatt said, looking me up and down. I shifted nervously, and stared at Oliver, who was fighting a smirk again. He took a few steps towards me and placed the flowers on the trestle table.

"The team wanted to meet you." He turned to them. "Go on. Introductions."

"I'm Liam. Chaser." He saluted me, then winked. I blushed again.

"Joscelind. Chaser. Lovely to have you, Katie." She smiled warmly, and I returned it

"Thank you," I told her.

"I'm the other Chaser. Gareth Ellsby. Nice to meet you, Miss Bell." This was the youngest male, who looked no more than 17. I recalled him from the papers when he joined the team just a few months previous, fresh out of Hogwarts. He was the first Chaser in almost twenty years who had achieved starting position on a professional team under the age of nineteen.

I laughed a little at the salutation, "Nice to meet you too, Mr Ellsby." He threw me a smile, and I returned that one also.

"I'm one of the Beaters. Lewis. And I can't tell you how glad we all are to have a female do our physicals this year. It gets extremely awkward with Wilson," Lewis laughed.

"Here, here," the second last team member said. "Alex Pierce, other Beater. You'll make those physicals very interesting."

The last man rolled his eyes. "Excuse the dogs, Katie. They haven't gotten laid in quite a long time." Lewis and Alex yelped in consternation. "I'm Benjy Williams. Seeker. Nice to put a face to a name."

I smiled. "Nice to meet you all. I just wish I looked a little more presentable the first time I met a major-league Quidditch team."

"You look beautiful," Oliver said, quiet enough for the team behind him not to hear it, but Alicia did. She nudged me in the back with her fingertips.

"Okay guys, you can head off, now. Back to practice. Thompson will be blowing a gasket. Tell him he can punish me later. I need to talk to Kates."

The team said their goodbyes, leaving all the Puddlemere goodies next to the flowers on and around the trestle table, and left. As soon as the door clicked shut, my hand connected sharply with Oliver's shoulder.

"Ouch!"

"It's 7am!"

"Sorry!"

Another slap. "I can't believe you thought I'd look presentable enough to meet the people I'll be working with from now on!"

Alicia and George were laughing in the background as Oliver pouted.

"I'm sorry, Katie. They followed me. They were very excited about meeting you."

I huffed, and went for a shower, throwing Oliver a mean glare as I left. When I returned, dressed, finally, Oliver, Alicia and George were all drinking coffee at the kitchen table and talking.

"Better, now?" George said upon noticing my arrival. I nodded shortly.

"I'm sooorrrryyy," Oliver whined behind me, as I walked past him to retrieve another cup of coffee. I turned to him and rolled my eyes. He smirked at me. "You looked cuter in your PJ's."

"Shut up," I told him, sitting down next to him at the table.

"Well, I'd better head to work," Alicia said.

"Yeah, me too. Important business to attend to," George said, winking.

"One, it's 7:30, and two, George, you work in a _joke shop_."

"See you later, Katie," they both said quickly, smiling, and hurried out the flat. When the door slammed shut, I eyed Oliver suspiciously.

"I don't suppose you had anything to do with that?"

"Nothing at all," he smiled, trying to be innocent, but I knew him well enough to know that he was lying. "So, you start in two weeks." I nodded, taking another sip of coffee, still eyeing him thoughtfully. "I guess you still have to work at St Mungo's until then?"

I shook my head. "I finished my internship and passed my final exams weeks ago."

"So you're at a bit of a loose end, then?" he asked.

I frowned. "I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering," he told me.

"Right." I said, a bit unsurely.

He watched me quietly for a moment, a slow smile across his lips. His eyes glittered with laughter when I determinedly stared at the coffee cup in my hands, avoiding his gaze. I hated him looking at me like that. He looked sexy as hell. It was very difficult to form any sort of sentence with him looking like he was about to take his shirt off and throw me onto the table. I squeaked quietly at that last thought, before I quickly stood up, placing my still half-full coffee cup on the counter. I shifted nervously, looking out the kitchen window at the street below, knowing Oliver's eyes were still on me, mentally undressing me, or whatever he was trying to do.

"Why are you nervous?" he murmured, his voice at my ear, his hands touching the counter either side of me, close, but not close enough to touch me. How the hell had he gotten over here so quickly, and so silently? I squeaked louder this time, turning around in the small space I was captured in. I stared up at him, deer caught in headlights, stunned by what he was doing. I just wanted to run away, but his burning black eyes stopped me in my tracks. "You truly are the most beautiful thing," he told me, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I …" I chastised myself for the breathy voice, and the lack of coherence in my brain that Oliver's smell brought. He just stood there, staring, not touching me, not moving an inch. And I stood there, stunned, unable to move, staring back. I willed him to move – whether I wanted him to move away, or closer still, I was oblivious. I just wanted him to move. To say something. To do what I knew he wanted to, just by the look in his eyes. To do what I'd see him do to many girls during our time at Hogwarts. Just kiss me. You've done it before, Oliver. Kiss me …

My patience suddenly snapped, and I glared. Hard. "What are y-?"

A reaction seemed to be what he was looking for, because within a second of opening my mouth to speak, it was covered by his. His arms snaked around my waist and he drew himself close. My anger dissipated as fast as it had appeared, and stunned was back. I gripped the counter behind me for dear life, trying to keep myself on my feet at the transition.

He stopped as quickly as he'd started, pulling away slightly, letting his forehead rest on mine. "Sorry," he whispered as I bit my lip nervously. "You're irresistible when you're angry."

I couldn't speak, opening my mouth wordlessly, my entire body flushing with waves of want for him. The kiss lasted all of ten seconds, and I just wanted him to do it again. To never stop.

He smirked at my speechlessness and pulled away. He leant on the counter next to me, looking down at me. "You didn't kiss back," he commented, laughter still in his voice, but I could tell he wanted a reason.

"It was unexpected. My brain didn't kick in."

"A relatively good sign, I hope?" he asked, still laughing. I didn't answer. He abandoned the conversation pretty quickly. "The team are going out for a few drinks on Saturday, you know. You should come too. They'd love to see you there. You'll come to get to know all of them really well, anyway." At this, I immediately looked to the letter Wilson had sent me. Oliver noticed, and picked it up from the table. His eyes darkened as he took in who it was from. "Can I?" he asked, meaning he wanted to read it. I nodded, and he did. He looked angry when he'd finished. "Did you say yes?"

"I haven't replied," I told him carefully.

He threw the letter down on the table. He took a breath and stood in front of me again, his hands on my upper arms. "Please don't, Kates."

I shook my head at him. "If it makes my working relationship with him weird, I can't not."

"Kates," he said, closing his eyes. "He's bad news."

"Like that matters. I'm not going to date him – it's just escorting me to a team outing."

"Could you be any more naïve?" he snapped, dropping his hands from my arms. "He wants you, Katie. Because, God, why wouldn't he? You're beautiful. Intelligent. Considerate … What Wilson wants, he gets. He's a fiend at seduction, because I've seen him do it. If you let him in, that's it. It's all over."

I looked at him in thought. "So, if not with Wilson, who's going to take me?"

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "An independent woman like you? Requiring a date to such a relaxed affair?"

"I'm new. I don't want to come across as pathetic on the first outing."

"Is that more of a second outing thing?" he said mock-seriously.

"I should think so," I replied in the same tone.

"Well, you know, I don't have a date either."

"Is that so?" I smirked.

"We could always … be pathetic together?"

"I would love to be your date, Oliver," I laughed. He grinned, kissing me on the cheek. "But you asked first if Caelan asks, okay?"

"No problem. Here, I have a question," he said, placing his hands on my hips as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, "If I kiss you again in the future, will you kiss back?"

I laughed, pushing on his chest so that I could look at him. "That's something you'll just have to find out," I smirked, trying to ignore the muscles my hands were currently on. He smirked back at me.

"You are such a tease, Kates."

"Thanks," I grinned. He laughed.

A few moments passed, and Oliver glanced at his watch. "Well, Thompson will have me do sprints for three hours for this one," he grinned. "Worth it, though."

"Crap, I forgot you had practice. Oliver! Go!" I said, trying to pull him towards the door. He resisted, I think just because he found it funny how weak I was. "Oliver," I pouted.

He smiled, lacing his fingers with mine, letting me pull him to the door. "It's fine. I'll lie."

"Go," I said, pushing him out of the door by his shoulders.

He laughed again as he stood outside on the stairs down to Diagon Alley. "I'll write to you tonight," he told me.

"Go, Oliver!"

He winked, then Disapparated.

I closed the door, grinning, sighing.

_Sorry … sorry …x_


	37. Chapter 37

Oliver did indeed write to me that very evening. I was making notes from one of my physiology textbooks when a quiet rapping came from the living room window. I looked up, perplexed, not used to receiving mail at such a late hour (as it had reached a quarter to midnight), but suddenly remembering Oliver's promise from this morning, I smiled, getting up from the kitchen table and letting the bird in. She shook off the rain from her feathers and shivered, huddling on the windowsill. I closed the window, allowing the owl to get warm. She hooted thanks as I grabbed a towel from the kitchen and wrapped her in it.

"You poor thing. Oliver was horrible to send you out in this!" I said looking out at the storm outside. I sat on the windowsill next to the owl as she hooted again, and stuck her leg out from the towel-cocoon, letter attached.

_Katie,_

_Sorry it's late – coach wasn't particularly impressed with me. He didn't let me leave the pitch until about ten minutes ago. But as I said earlier, it was totally worth it. I haven't stopped grinning the entire day. Which, I think, added to Thompson's annoyance._

_I know that things have to go slow. I understand that you need time – as I do – to heal after everything we've gone through. There are so many things I would change with our story, Kates. Cassie would never have happened. Davies would never have happened. We wouldn't be so wounded after it all. We would have been together since school. We would have been in love, and it would have been forever._

_And even though all of what happened happened, I've always cared for you. I've missed you every day, every second. It hurt to think of you, but I did anyway. I tried to find out as much as I could about your life without directly asking the twins. I didn't want the stigma, the accusations that asking would bring. I realise now that I shouldn't have cared. I couldn't even say your name, you know. I missed you so much, Kates. You were my best friend, and I couldn't even say your name without feeling sick with myself and what I had done, and how our lives had turned out. When I found out about Cass and Davies, sure, I was hurt myself, but more than anything, I was concerned for you. Terrified, actually. My first thought was you. Your pain when you found was probably the reason I didn't kill him on the spot. I remembered those days, back in Hogwarts. You hated me fighting. It scared you, and I never wanted you to be scared of me. And, probably selfishly, I didn't want you to pity him before you knew the truth. He doesn't deserve pity from such a compassionate, beautiful woman. He doesn't deserve love from someone so devoted, and caring, and witty, and amazing. Of course, no one will ever be good enough for you, Kates. And yet, I'm lucky enough for you to give me the time of day, even with the mess I've made of everything. I don't deserve forgiveness from you – I know that for sure. _

_When I saw you again, a week after I found out about their affair, the day I broke my hand and saw you nursing him, it hit me suddenly that it should have always been you. You were perfect, and you could have been mine. It could have been me that you were so concerned for, rather than the one you begrudgingly helped due to duty. And I'll regret that until the day I die. We lost so much time, and we don't really know each other any more – but trust me, we're fixing that._

_Goodnight, Beautiful._

_Oliver x_

My tears were free-flowing by the end of his letter. His heart had been on his sleeve as he's written, and mine, as I cried silently, was in my throat. I petted the owl at my side, and she looked up at me, eyes doe-like at my tears. She hooted quietly. I smiled, refolding the letter.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I won't send you out again. You can stay here tonight." The owl closed her eyes, preparing for sleep.

I fetched her some owl treats from the kitchen and set them beside her in case she got hungry in the night, and wrote a note to Angelina (who had disappeared into her room with Fred a few hours previous) explaining the owl if she rose before me in the morning.

I got ready for bed, and picked up the phone, carefully dialling Oliver's number as I lay down.

"_Katie."_

"Hi," I whispered, his voice making me smile.

"_Is Poppy being stubborn?" _he asked, obviously meaning his owl.

"She was cold. I don't blame her for not wanting to go out again," I laughed.

"_So you got my letter, then?"_

"I've read it twice." I paused, before saying, "Thank you. For saying all that."

"_Not a word of a lie, Kates."_

"I know."

"_I hate how much time we've lost."_

"Me too," I said sadly. "Five years is a long time."

"_I've missed you."_

"I've missed you too," I whispered, heartfelt.

He stayed quiet for a moment, letting our last declarations sink in. Then he said, _"I'm here now."_

I nodded, despite him not being able to see me, feeling my eyes tear up once more. "I just want to be happy again, Oliver. All I've known is misery since school. I just didn't realise it. And it's because I didn't have you."

"_You have me now. I'm not going anywhere. I want you to be happy again, too." _I softly sobbed, but Oliver heard. _"Kates?"_

"I'm fine. I'm just being silly." I sniffed, and tried to compose myself, wiping my eyes.

"_It's okay, Katie. I promise you."_

I nodded again. "I know."

"_I'll never let you down again,"_ he said, sincere and gentle.

"I know," I wept.

He paused again, taking a deep breath. _"Please don't cry. I can't stand not being there with you." _

"Sorry," I said, trying to stop.

"_I love you, Kates. I don't expect for a second that you feel the same. I just thought you should know. Don't feel like you need to answer."_

I smiled at the phone, tears still streaming down my cheeks. "You're perfect, Oliver."

He laughed, the sound making me smile brighter. _"I'm certain that that's you, love."_

"Hmmm," I laughed. Then a thought struck me. "Hey, you must be exhausted. Have you got practice tomorrow too?"

"_I'm fine,"_ he told me. I immediately felt guilty.

"I'm going to let you sleep, Ol'. You need your strength. Especially after your, no doubt, near torture practice today. And that was my fault anyway!"

"_If you remember, it was me who decided to stay. Blame lies firmly with myself."_

"Goodnight Oliver," I said.

"_No,"_ he whispered. _"Don't. I like hearing your voice too much. Come over_."

"What?" I asked, stunned.

"_Come over,"_ he repeated, his voice serious.

"You need sleep, Oliver."

"_I need you,"_ he corrected, his voice overflowing with emotion. I wasn't certain on his meaning, but it didn't really matter. I couldn't go over. I was sure that that was moving too fast. I couldn't promise myself that I wouldn't do something I would later regret.

"When do you finish practice tomorrow?"

"_Should be around 5,"_ he told me.

"I'll be at Grey's at twenty past."

"_I'll be there."_

"Goodnight Oliver."

"_Goodnight Kates,"_ he said reluctantly. _"Love you."_

I smiled contentedly as I hung up the phone, slipping into a dream-filled sleep, one man on my mind.

"Afternoon," Angelina chimed as she came in around three. I smiled at her and returned the greeting from my spot on the windowsill. "Who's owl was that last night?" she asked, pouring herself a coffee from the pot and leant on the edge of the kitchen table, looking at me.

"Oliver's," I said with a soft smile.

"I know that look. Do tell!" she grinned.

"He wrote me a letter," I shrugged, not being able to hide my contented smile.

"Hand it over," Angelina demanded, teasing smile in place as I pulled it out of my pocket, where it had been all day, except when it was being read, which had been often. She read, her 'aww' face in place. "Can _I_ have him?" she pleaded as she finished reading.

I shook my head resolutely. "Not a chance. He's all mine," I said, then added, a little unsurely, "Um … I hope."

"There's no hope about it. He's clearly in love with you. He has been for years."

"I know. He does. I called him last night. He told me so," I smiled softly.

"I think maybe your life is finally coming together, Katie," Angelina said placing her coffee cup down on the white table and standing up.

"Don't jinx it," I laughed. "I'm going to meet him tonight at Grey's."

Angelina smiled at me again. "I'm really happy for you, Kat. Don't let him get away this time though, eh? I'm not going through all that shenaniganary again."

"Shenaniganary?" I spluttered, laughing at her choice of words.

"It's a perfectly acceptable turn of phase," she said matter-of-factly.

I let her have it, rolling my eyes at her insanity. "I'm not planning on letting him get away. I want to take it slow, though. I'm scared that if we rush it, it'll lose it's lustre."

"Fair point. But I don't think that's likely … do you?"

I smiled contentedly into my coffee cup and shook my head, knowing full well that any relationship with Oliver – whether it be slow, or whether we got married tomorrow – would be beautiful, and long awaited by both of us.

Oliver fell into step beside me as we walked along Diagon Alley, carry-out coffee in hands. He was freshly showered from training, hair still dark with water. I shot him a side-long glance as I took a sip of my coffee, and he shot me one back, smiling. It was something I'd always enjoyed - back in the day when Oliver and I were friends – about spending time with him. Every silence needn't be filled, and casual looks could go unexplained without fuss. It was a relaxed way of being, and Oliver (except when it came to Quidditch) tended to be. It was something that was never there with Roger. I stuttered in my head at he thought of him. I tried not to, for obvious reasons. The fact that he hadn't even tried contacting me after we broke up struck me as odd, but I wasn't complaining. It felt easier to deal with this way. Not that I had his presence in my life, even when we were dating. Which was another good aspect of Oliver. It felt as though he would put anything off (even _Quidditch) _to spend time with me, and as much I'd rather he didn't miss training, I appreciated the sentiment. I smiled back at him softly.

"Are you looking forward to tomorrow?" he asked, taking another glance at me, then looking up at the blue sky, shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

I nodded apprehensively. "Just – please – don't let me drink. I don't want to make a fool out of myself in front of everyone."

He smiled lopsidedly, shaking his head. "Plan foiled." He laughed at my shocked expression. "Well, it's the best way to get to know a team like ours. Drunk-bonding. Like in Glasgow – a night out there, if you're drunk, and someone else is drunk, you're immediately best friends for the rest of the night."

"I'll pretend."

"We'll see how far that gets you," he smirked. "You're the newbie. You'll be bought drinks." I shrugged, feeling as though I would probably have no choice in that matter. "I'll look after you, though." He was serious as he said that, and I looked at him in question. He shrugged. "I'm not going all alpha. But places like we're going can be quite shady. Exclusive clubs and stuff? Drugs and rich bastards," he said with a laugh. "Plus, someone has to have your back. Or else the hounds will come sniffing."

I snorted at that. "That seems unlikely," I told him.

He tilted his head at me as he looked at me in thought. "Really, you think so?" he said sarcastically.

"Yes, really, I do think so," I answered seriously.

He carried on looking at me for a moment longer, before watching where he was walking once more. "I'm not going to lie, Kates. I think that's one of the most ridiculous things you've ever said." My eyebrows shot up at his gall. I turned on him. He rolled his eyes at my incredulity. "Were you _at _the same school as me? Seriously, Katie ..."

"'Seriously, Katie …' what?"

He sighed out a frustrated breath. "How many guys asked you to the Yule Ball the year after I left?" he glared.

I mouthed wordlessly for a second. "How …?"

"The twins told me. Despite you having a boyfriend at the time, how many times were you asked to the Yule Ball?"

I chewed my lip. Stupid twins.

"Eight, was it?"

I bit my lip harder, then rolled my eyes. "Nine."

"Do you really think _nine_ different guys would presumably risk life and limb by said boyfriend, just to go to a stupid dance with you? You know why they did? Because you are a funny, smart, and massively skilled Chaser, who's beautiful to boot."

I shook my head at him. "You're deluded."

He stopped my slow stroll by taking me by the elbow, turning me around to face him. "No, Katie. _You_ are." I shook my head again and continued walking, finishing my coffee as I went, dropping it into the dustbin that had appeared at the side of the walkway. He finished his also, dropping his cup into the same bin. "Do you honestly not believe me?"

"Can you drop it, please?" I asked, as politely as I could whilst being quite irate.

"Katie," he said softly.

"Drop it." He let out a sigh, giving up. We came to a stop, automatically, outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, peering in the window into the darkened shop.

"The new Firebolts are fantastic, just got them last month to test-run. I swear, they dive on thought alone. We're lucky we can afford them. I wouldn't like to be on the team who can't. Again, say goodbye to the League, Cannons!"

I laughed. "Even with the brooms, they haven't got a chance in hell."

"How unsportswoman-like of you," he winked. "Every team has a chance. If they sorted their shambles of a team out and got some more discipline, I'm sure they could even get to the _second_ round ..."

I laughed again. "What's your chances this season, then?"

He gave me a smirk. "Puddlemere are tight. You'll be kept busy this season, I'm sure. We play the Harpies the week you start. Usually at least one casualty when we play them. Funnily enough, it's _never_ Joscelind. Some weird respect-for-women-but-not-men thing. Completely unfair." I rolled my eyes at him. "In any case, one of us guys tends to be injured in some way."

"Just out of curiousity, who will I be attending to most often?"

"That would be Liam."

"Oh?"

"For a Chaser, his spatial awareness is a little … shoddy. Don't tell him I said that."

I laughed. "How many times this month have you bust his nose?" I asked knowingly.

"_Three_."

"He's worse than Alicia!"

"I know! I never thought I'd meet another Chaser with the same crazy problem!"

"He seems nice, though."

"He's a good guy," Oliver nodded, leaning against the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and I mirrored him.

"Still staying with him?"

He nodded again. "I can't exactly go back to my house," he shrugged. "He asked me to move in with him permanently, but …" Oliver sighed. "I don't think Liam knows himself, really. If he did, he would know that when he met a woman and fell in love with her, he'd want me gone from that place in ten seconds flat so that they could have a proper family home. That's him all over."

"It's you, too."

He gave me a wry smile. "And look how that turned out. I should warn him against it, really."

I smiled sadly. "You know you'd do it again in a heartbeat."

He nodded. "Yeah. I know."

A little while and trivial conversation later, Oliver walked me home, coming to a stop outside the flat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then? I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds good," I smiled.

"Thought we could go out to dinner first, if you're willing?"

"Oh. Um, sure! Yeah, that ..." I got over myself a bit, taking a breath, and looking at Oliver and his teasing smirk matter-of-factly. "I'd like that."

"Good," he grinned. "Seven, then. It was good to see you today, Kates."

"You too," I smiled back. He pecked me on the cheek, winked, and left me watching him leave.

_Firstly, thank you to all of you who reviewed. I like that I have quite a few readers, and that this shipping has gained popularity again. It was rocky for a while._

_Secondly, some reviews have come back mentioning no spacers between different scenes and whatnot in earlier chapters, and also new lines taken where lines ought not have been taken. A few years ago, went a bit odd. Think it was 2009/2010. It was annoying then, but nothing could be done about it. It deleted lines that were put in by Word, and spaced random lines (usually the first five or so words of the first sentence) in the text. Considering this is a pretty old story now – it's almost three years that I've been writing it – that's why it's a bit funny. If I could be particularly bothered, and if it mattered a lot, I would go back and correct what was wrong. To be honest, it's effort enough to write these days, being so busy. As well as that, I know as a reader who has stories on 'story alert' that re-posting chapters can be quite annoying, what with the email notifications. I don't think it matters greatly to the integrity of the story, and so I'm going to leave it. Same with misspellings, which I don't feel I'm particularly bad for anyway. Sorry if it bothers you, but I'll keep mistakes to a minimum in the future._

_Ciao._


	38. Chapter 38

My eyes had never returned to their dull shade they once were, I realised suddenly, inspecting the swirling viridian. It was nearing six-thirty pm the next night - Saturday. I sat at my dressing table, heart hammering, staring at myself in the mirror, eyes carefully outlined black, eyelashes curled and mascara applied. I blinked at myself. It was strange, I thought vaguely, that after the first time I'd kissed Oliver, my eyes had taken on a whole new light that they hadn't had before. Like my soul had been set on fire.

That sounded too ridiculous. I smirked at myself, my lined dusk-pink lips pulled up at one side slightly. I could be absurd sometimes. Right now, for instance. I was nervous as hell about going to dinner with Oliver. I'd known the boy for nine years. I'd eaten with him countless times. I had nothing to be nervous about. And yet, it had never been in this capacity. And so my heart hammered on in my chest, beneath the high slash-neck of the emerald lace dress I wore. Alicia had been right – it matched my eyes. Especially now, when they were vivid, staring back at me from the glass.

Stand in the mirror. Be objective. Reflect what you are.

I thought I looked good. I let Alicia do my hair, and I was glad I had. It tumbled down my back in tousled curls, some pinned at the sides with the antique pins Angelina had bought me for my last birthday. My fingernails were black, as were my suede high-heels, my small clutch bag, and my light jacket. I tested a smile, my nervousness shining through it blatantly. I cursed myself. It wasn't like this was my first date ever. Pull yourself together, girl.

"Geez, Katie. You look terrified." I looked over my shoulder to the door, where Angelina stood with Alicia.

"But great all the same," Alicia assured me, nudging Angelina in the side in annoyance.

"She always does," the darker girl nodded. "But I think you need a drink." She left the room and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of Firewhiskey and three shot glasses. I downed the one she poured me, and they sipped theirs.

"Thanks," I told her. "I don't know why I'm so scared."

"Because it's your first date with him, silly," Alicia reminded me. "It's totally natural to feel like this."

"I'd really rather I didn't. I just … I really don't want to mess this up."

Alicia patted my hand. "Sweetheart, he loves you. Really – don't worry."

I nodded, knowing she was right, although knowing that didn't stop me feeling sick.

"We're both staying at Fred and George's tonight," Angelina told me. "We thought that was best, so you don't have to worry about making noise when you come back late."

"Thanks guys. I don't know what I'd do without you both."

"Well, you'd probably be less sentimental," Angelina said, laughing at me. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Shut up."

I stood up, smoothing the dress down my thighs.

"That dress is _bangin'_ on you, girl," Alicia said.

"Is that a technical term?" I laughed.

"I'm sure Oliver will agree with her," Angelina laughed too. I blushed.

"Don't act like that wasn't the aim," Alicia giggled, winking a me. I fought a smirk.

"No, not at all!" I said, mock-shocked. "How vulgar!" We all laughed, and then the doorbell rang. My eyes widened, and I stopped laughing instantly, causing the girls to laugh harder.

"I'll get it," Alicia sang, skipping to get the door. I followed her out of my room, Angelina at my heels. I gripped my bag so hard my knuckles began to turn white. I really shouldn't be this nervous …

Alicia opened the door, and there he stood, fiddling nervously with a single white rose, his hair on end. If I hadn't been so terrified, I would have smirked knowing that he was feeling exactly the same.

"Evening, Oliver," Alicia said, throwing a smirk over her shoulder to Angelina. "What do you say we leave the panic-stricken teenagers to it, Ange?"

I managed to glower at her. They really had lost their tact. Must be all that time spent with the twins.

"Have _fun_, Katie," Angelina smirked, just before she and Alicia disapparated.

Absolute silence followed their departure, Oliver having not looked up from his shoes, and myself doing the same thing. This was getting embarrassing.

I cleared my throat, and forced myself to look at him in the doorway. He looked good, as always. But particularly good in dark jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned just enough to be utterly, irresistibly sexy. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, an expensive watch hanging loosely on his wrist. His dark hair was messy, his hands having ran through it at least a dozen times. I let out a breath I'd been holding as he slowly looked up at me, his eyes travelling the length of me. I blushed furiously when his eyes eventually burned black-gold into mine. I bit my lip nervously, clutching my bag tighter.

"Wow," he managed to utter. I blushed harder, pulling my all-of-a-sudden too short skirt further down my thighs. "You look … wow."

"You too," I managed. I stepped closer to the door, realising I was standing in the middle of the living room, and he was ten feet from me. This was just ridiculous.

He offered the rose to me, and I took it, thanking him quietly. "Shall we?" he asked, his eyes roving over my face as he offered his arm this time. I took another steadying breath as he smiled a beautiful smile at me as I took his arm and he disapparated us to our destination.

...

We apparated right outside an _extortionate_-looking French affair, with two topiary trees standing either side of an intricately windowed door. I presumed that this was a Wizarding restaurant, though I'd never heard of it before, and this must be where he was taking me.

"_Wow_."

He led me gently to the door, which read in beautiful French script '_L'élégance Supérieure'. _Roger had never taken me to a place like this. It was completely beautiful. I actually felt breathless.

"Are you okay?" Oliver whispered into my ear just as we reached the door of probably the most expensive restaurant I'd ever dine at.

"Speechless," I breathed, and he smirked.

"That was the aim."

"Oliver," I said, turning to him. Then I was at a loss. He smirked more, and held the door open for me, and he placed his hand on the small of my back to lead me towards the rather Continental-looking host, who stood behind a small counter in the entrance area.

"Le nom s'il vous plaît, monsieur?"

My mouth dropped as Oliver replied, "Réservation pour deux à sept heures pour Wood, merci beaucoup."

"Ah, oui, Monsieur Wood de Puddlemere! Oh, oui. Votre table vous attend, Monsieur."

If we are in France, I'm going to murder him. I glanced out of the window and was nearly floored. How hadn't I seen it before? The Eiffel Tower was _right there_.

"Est-il un problème, madame?" the host asked of me, looking at my panicked expression in question.

Oliver laughed. "Ne vous inquiétez pas. Elle est juste surpris. Je n'ai pas lui dire que j'étais son porte à vorte beau pays. Une surprise, si vous voulez."

"Ah, un homme méchant vous, Monsieur!" the host said with good humour. I had no idea what they were saying, having never studied French in my life. I never thought I would _have_ to! "Suivez-moi, s'il vous plaît, si vous voulez Monsieur, Madame."

Oliver gently took my hand, carefully evading the dark look I was giving him, and we followed the host through to the intimate restaurant. Almost every table was full, and quiet piano music played over the diner's quiet conversations. The Frenchman led us to a booth at the very back of the restaurant, which read 'exclusivement réservés' on a little white card upon the pristinely white tablecloth. Oliver motioned for me to sit on one of the blue-cushioned seats, and he sat opposite.

"Puis-je obtenir Monseir et Madame certaines boissons?" the host asked of Oliver.

"Oui, votre meilleur Champagne, s'il vous plaît. C'est le seul moment où je serai autorisé à l'acheter pour elle, quand elle ne sait pas ce que je dis."

The host laughed politely at what Oliver had said, and nodded dutifully, before taking his leave. I turned my glare on him, and he held his hands up in defence.

"Hey, that look is lethal," he murmured. "And _incredibly _sexy."

"We're in _Paris_, for the love of God, Oliver! Why the heck are we in France? In possibly the most expensive restaurant ever?" I whispered angrily.

Just then a silver ice-bucket and two Champagne flutes, appeared on our table. The bottle then poured of it's own accord what looked to be the most expensive Champagne I'd ever even been in the same room as into our glasses. At least I knew it was wizarding. Nevertheless, I bit my lip.

"Is something wrong?" Oliver asked, very concerned with my expression. "Do you want to leave?"

"Isn't this too expensive, Ol'?"

His concern left him, and in it's place came genuine laughter. "The perks of being an international Quidditch player, Kates. I have more money than I know what to do with."

I continued biting my lip, knowing that what he said was somewhat of a fallacy. He'd spent all of his money on his house, which he now no longer lived in. But I let it lie, taking a sip of Champagne. "It's beautiful here."

"I'm glad you like it," he said softly. "You deserve the best."

…

After our meal of things I neither knew the name of, nor knew the constituents of, we strolled along moonlit Parisian streets. I felt like I was in a dream. It was the best date I'd ever been on, not only for the sheer dazzling factor, but also … it was Oliver. It felt as if we were back to the way we were. The jokes from our past flooded back. The anecdotes, the stories. It was as if nothing had happened in the past five years. It was just me and Oliver again. Like it always was.

His fingers found mine, and I smiled down at my feet, stopping walking to turn and face him. His eyes were soft as he looked at me, his mouth smiling. "You are so beautiful." I tsk-ed him and rolled my eyes. "I mean it." I shut up, his eyes dead-serious, his fingers caressing mine.

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked quietly. "And since when could you speak French?"

"Because I wanted our first date to be one to remember. And because you deserve to be treated like royalty," he told me honestly. I smiled a little sadly, freeing one of my hands from his grasp and reaching up to brush my knuckles along his jaw, caressingly. He took my hand back, and kissed my palm. "And since always. My parents used to take me on holiday here as a kid." He smiled, a glint in his eye. "Shall we head back to London? We have a party to attend."

I nodded gently, the warm feeling in my chest swelling, my heart going a mile a minute at every look he gave me. And then I knew, officially. The love I'd felt before for him, in school, was nothing. The love I'd felt for Roger was nothing. _This_ was how it was supposed to feel. Wonderful and painful, blissful and confusing. This was the way it was meant to be.

Oliver wrapped his arms around me, gently holding my body to his, and with a _pop_, and a feeling as though I was being pushed with him through a tube, we were in London again.

...

We apparated once more outside a black-bricked plain building. A tall, well-built, tough looking man in black stood in front of a black, unmarked door. The man nodded at Oliver, uncrossing his large tattooed arms to open the door for us. It opened into a dark, quiet hallway. The door shut behind us, and Oliver squeezed my hand in reassurance, as I'd jumped at the bang.

"One of the more exclusive wizard nightclubs, Kates. This is Gwenyvere's."

At his words, the whole west wall cracked like an egg, a diamond-surrounded archway appearing. A glitteringly sleek black floor stretched out before us, red walls of leather stretching out in a wide circle from us. Black staircases and balconies popped out of the walls, and bars and tables sprouted from the black ground. The ceiling was a vast dome of glass, displaying the night's sky outside, the stars shining more brightly than they usually would, creating spotlights of white light on the already-glittering black floor. Just as suddenly as the room appeared, so did all the people, and with them, the noise.

Oliver leaned in close to my ear to speak over the blaring music. "Do you like it?"

I think my wide eyes spoke volumes, and I smiled at him, nodding. He laughed – though I couldn't hear the sound, and took me by the hand again, leading me through the diamond archway into the heaving crowd of the club.

We wound our way through throngs of people, dancing like their lives depended on it, navigating our way towards, I presumed, one of the staircases. I let Oliver lead me, for he obviously knew where he was going. He led me up one of the black staircases up to the largest balcony which overlooked the whole floor. Another of the well-built bouncers guarded a velvet rope at the top of the stairs. He spoke to Oliver briefly, before letting us through. It was quieter, as if a muffling charm had been placed around the balcony. There was a bar at the far wall, and tables around the walls, as well as a massive dance floor, filled with even more people.

We wound our way through, towards the bar. Oliver leaned in close and said, "If I know my team, I know where they are."

"Wood! _Wood!_" Liam came out of nowhere, jumping onto Oliver's back. He dropped my hand and rolled his eyes. "I've missed you, bro! Where the _hell_ have you _been_? Gallivanting?"

"Get _off_, you!" Oliver laughed. The shorter man dropped from his back and rounded on him. "I take it you've already drank the bar dry?"

"Not _quite_ yet, but I'm working on it!" Liam grinned. Just then, he spotted me. "Ah, Miss Bell! Fancy meeting you here. You look ..." Wyatt, for lack of a better expression, oggled me. Apparently he couldn't articulate just what I was and continued staring. I blushed terribly.

"Oi, eyes _in_, mate," Oliver said, his accent thickening. He said it in good humour, but all the same steered me away from his friend. "It seems that I have my work cut out this evening," he laughed.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

Just then, Joscelind appeared at Oliver's elbow. "Goooood evening kiddy-winks," she grinned. "Where have _you_ two been all night?"

"We just arrived," Oliver said, tactfully. Joscelind smiled, realising he was evading the question.

"Katie, you look absolutely amazing. I may as well have turned up in my training gear, standing next to you! Where did you get that dress? It's gorgeous! Oh, listen to me, I sound like _such_ a girl. I've clearly drank too much already."

I mouthed wordlessly at the barrage of words that had been suddenly thrown at me.

"Don't be silly, Joss. You look beautiful too," Oliver said, sensing my discomfort. I nodded fervently.

"Oh, Oliver. You're such a sweetheart. I should introduce you to my husband again. He could learn a few things from you," she said, finishing the red wine that had been in her hand. "Hey, Katie, I'll buy you a drink. Come on." She looped her arm through mine and pulled me away from Oliver. I looked back at him desperately to see him grin and shrug at my situation. The crowd closed behind us as Joscelind dragged me towards the bar.

"It's okay, Joscelind, you really don't have to buy me a drink," I told her as she tried to get the attention of one of the barmen at the busy bar.

"Oh, call me Joss. Everyone else does. And of course I do! You're going to be looking after us. We need to keep you sweet. Although, by the looks of it, our baby Oliver has already got that covered, hmm?" she winked. I blushed, and shook my head innocently, unsure of whether Oliver wanted his team to know our past. The barman finally took notice and took her order of two white wines. She handed one to me with a wink. "I've watched little Oliver grow up, you know. And I've watched him while his unhappiness with that bitch took over. I am _so_ glad that he has you, Katie."

I blinked at her, unsure of what to say. She smiled, and took a long drink from her glass. I followed suit, almost downing my entire glass in nervousness. "We aren't … We have a history, Oliver and I. Best friends at Hogwarts. That's all."

She smiled knowingly. "He used to talk about you – when he was fresh out of Hogwarts and on the reserves. It used to drive the team mad. He insisted that you were this champion Chaser, and that the three reserve Chasers didn't have a patch on you. And every time he said your name, there was this glimmer … a sad one, but it was there. Like he'd loved and lost you, you know? And now – when he's with you, Katie, it's like he's a completely different person. Since he made the starting team, he's been so … not miserable, exactly. Stoic, is probably a better word. And when he found out about Cassandra's affair, _then_ came the misery. His play just got … robotic. Everything about him did. It was horrible to know that nothing I could say could make it better. It killed Liam to watch his best friend destroy himself. And Oliver really did give it his best shot. And now … Katie, he's _smiling_. I hadn't seen Oliver smile in such a long time." Joss smiled sadly. "That lot - they're my boys. When they're unhappy, I'm unhappy. I worry about them all the time – ask my husband. They're like my kids. I'm just so pleased that he's found you again."

I listened to her talk, tears glittering in my eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry! Don't cry!" She dithered about me, settling for patting me on the shoulder.

"No, no. It's not your fault. That was just so … I'm glad Oliver had someone to look after him. He'll tell you a million times that he can look after himself, but you know as well as I that he just … he needs someone sometimes. And I wasn't there for him for the longest time." I managed to hold my tears in, and I finished my wine. "Thank you," I said sincerely.

She smiled, and took my hand. "C'mon. You need to meet my husband. He'll love you."

"Katie, let me buy you a drink?"

I'd been talking to Joss, her husband and Phil for a few minutes before Liam took my elbow and, with my apologies, I went with him.

A vodka lemonade was pressed into my hand. "I wanted to talk to you, Katie. I hope that's okay?"

I smiled at him, clearly drunk. "Of course it is, Liam. Is everything okay?"

He motioned for me to sit down in the booth we'd been standing next to. I gave him a quizzical look to his serious one, but sat down anyway. "I just wanted to say that … Well, one, that Oliver is the luckiest man alive tonight. You look absolutely stunning." I blushed at his compliment. "And two … well, it's awkward, see."

My brow furrowed. "What is?"

"He's happy, Katie. _So_ happy – you wouldn't believe. He wakes me up at five am with this stupid _whistling_. I mean really, I'm just about wishing he was depressed again – No, I don't mean that. I _much_ prefer him happy. Please don't tell him I said that, okay? In fact, any of this. Promise?"

He was talking super-fast, it was hard to keep track. I nodded, catching his last question. "I promise."

"He … he really needs you. I didn't think he could cope with losing anyone else from his life like he lost you, and then he lost Cass. He's been on a knife's edge for months. He was on self-destruct. It was … just horrible. And nothing that anyone said could help. And then … Merlin, he kissed you on his Birthday, and he was just this new person! It just proved that it'd been you all along. Don't … please don't let him push you away. Even if it doesn't work out with you two being together … You pushed him away before. Please just … I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that to him again." Liam dropped his eyes to the table guiltily.

I knew that he was right. That I'd done so much damage to Oliver when we were at school. And I knew that he needed me now, after his breakup with Cassie. And I knew that I _really_ needed him too.

I leaned over the table and placed my hand on Liam's. "Honestly … Liam, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I couldn't do that to him again. It was awful enough the first time. We've both grown up, now."

"Speak for yourself. He's still a massive kid sometimes."

"Good. I'm so glad of that. And I'm really glad he has you, too."

Liam smirked at me. "_Has_ me?" He laughed. "Oh, hey, Ollie's never _had_ me, Katie. He may think that he's some kind of sex God, but he's nothing in comparison to _moi_." He winked, and I knew then that it had been Liam's idea for Oliver to take me to Paris. I slapped his arm slightly and stood up, kissing Liam on the cheek, and left him to his drink.

The night continued, and many drinks had been pressed into my hand. My brain felt fuzzy as I spoke to everyone. Oliver hadn't been around for quite some time, and I vaguely wondered where he had gotten to as Lewis told me about knocking Benjy out with one of the Bludgers the week previous at a training session. Benjy shook his head along with the story.

"The point in _having_ Beaters is to _stop_ that sort of thing happening, you know," he said matter of factly to the younger male.

"But it was hilarious, mate! Like a sack of potatoes – seriously Katie. Funniest thing that's happened in weeks!" Lewis guffawed, and Alex laughed along with him.

"Hey …" Alex said, eyebrows furrowing as he looked over my head to the other side of the balcony. "Tornadoes are here?"

My eyes widened. Roger …

Oliver.

_Very sorry for the delay. You guys know the drill by now. I'm terrible at updating. Thanks for sticking with it, though. xx_


	39. Chapter 39

I left Alex, Lewis, and Benjy abruptly, making them shout after me. I ignored them, making my way to the bar. I figured that would be the best place to see the entire room from. I ordered another drink and scoped the room. I couldn't see Oliver or Davies … but with a palpitation, I did catch sight of blonde curls …

I pushed through the crowd of people dancing to the loud music until I was two feet from Cassie Nolan. She turned, and her face fell.

"Katie?"

"Cassie," I replied, my voice dead. "This is a Puddlemere party. You know who's here. Are you trying to kill him?"

"I know fine well what party this is, _Kates_. I've attended them since Ollie made the team. Why should I stop just because he's in a mood?"

"_In a mood_? Are you kidding?"

"He'll come back to me eventually." She smiled sweetly, and my fist twitched at my side.

"Don't kid yourself. You broke his heart."

"He came back to you, didn't he? That's who you're here with, right? He promised me that he would never see you again, and here you are."

"You promised _him_ you wouldn't _fuck around_ with my ex-boyfriend!"

The dance floor had backed away from us now, and we were receiving quite a few stares. I didn't care one stitch.

"I don't believe I said that."

"It was _sort of_ assumed when you agreed to marry him!" I could feel my anger bubbling to a peak. I knew if I continued talking to her, I wouldn't be able to control myself. I had to get out now. "Leave! Right now! And take Davies with you, because I never want to see him again, either! You _both_ sicken me!"

She just smiled sweetly, and I turned on my heel, gathering together every inch of self-control I could muster.

I rushed back to the bar, ordering another drink. I downed it, trying to smother the fear that was eating away at my stomach.

"You look very beautiful tonight, Miss Bell," an Australian accent purred in my ear. "Such a shame that Oliver kicked me to the post for tonight."

I sighed internally, but smiled at Caelan. "Thank you, Caelan. You look good too." And he did. His ash-blonde hair fell into vivid blue eyes to which is shirt matched.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, flashing bright white teeth. My head spun slightly with the alcohol I's already consumed as I nodded out of politeness. He asked for our drinks at the bar, and turned back to me. "So where has Wood disappeared off to?"

My initial panic was reignited as I told him I didn't know. "I'm quite worried about him," I said as I sipped my drink. "His ex-fiancée is here."

"Oh. Want a hand finding him?" Caelan offered, brow furrowing. "Four eyes are better than two."

"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin your evening."

"How would it be ruined? I would get to spend time getting to know my new colleague. Hardly ruined." He smiled again, and I returned it politely.

"Thanks," I told him, taking the drink he passed to me. We both looked out over the crowd, trying to catch sight of Oliver.

But I saw Roger first. And he was heading straight for me.

"Who's this guy?" Caelan asked, obviously sensing my discomfort, watching my ex-boyfriend approach.

I didn't answer, excusing myself from his company, trying to get away from Roger before he reached me. I managed to get to the back wall where all the booths were located before he caught up with me, taking me by the elbow and gently pushing me into a booth. He sat beside me so that I couldn't get out.

"What do you think you're doing?" I shouted. "Let me out! I do _not_ want to speak to you, Davies."

He turned to me with sad eyes in place. "Kate ..."

"I don't want to hear it! Why are you here? You know Puddlemere are here tonight. You know Oliver is here. And you came, and _brought fucking Cassie_." I shoved his shoulder, but he remained exactly where he was, Quidditch muscles anchoring him to his seat. "Let me _out_!"

"Can't you just … hear me out first?"

I slid away from him, right up against the wall. "Why should I?"

"I've missed you, I ..."

"And I've missed you," I admitted, for the first time out loud. "It still doesn't change a damned thing, Davies."

"I didn't want to come … it was Cassie. She … I don't know. She wanted to see the reaction, I guess. We're not together, though. I've been miserable without you, Katie. I've been playing shit-awful. I heard that you're the new Medic for Puddlemere, and I needed to see you … I'm so sorry. I will _always_ be sorry, because what I did just proved your initial judgement of me, and I fucked up _royally. _I know that you're never going to forget what I did, and I don't deserve forgiveness, even though I know you will eventually, because that's just who you are. I just … I wanted to see you so badly. I wanted you to know that I was sorry. You know me, Katie. You know when I'm truly sorry. Look at me," he said, and my eyes flicked over to him. "You can see how sorry I am." And I could.

"And you can see how even that isn't going to change anything." He nodded. "You need to leave, Roger. And take your bitch with you."

"She's not m –"

"Irrelevant. Really."

I was having difficulty looking at him, my heart hurting every time we made eye contact. Seeing him after not speaking for so long just killed me.

Because we were together a long time. He was the first person whom I said 'I love you' to … he was the person whom I'd lost my virginity to … he was my best friend when my other had deserted me. I loved Roger before he broke my heart. And he was right. I was the sort of person who forgave everything. I hadn't forgiven him yet, but I was getting there.

And that was a dangerous place to be. Because I couldn't forgive him. It would be too easy for him to convince me that he would never cheat again. And then I would return to the rut I had been in for five years.

I would lose Oliver all over again. My heart wouldn't survive that.

"Why?" I asked, turning my gaze to him again, new vigour in my veins.

He knew what I meant, and his eyes dropped away from me. "Because it was easy. Because _she_ was easy. There was too much emotion when I was with you around that time. I felt like I was drowning, and I was scared."

I nodded, in understanding rather than agreement or forgiveness. "I was scared too. I thought you hated me for never agreeing to marry you."

"I didn't hate you. I just wish you had. We'd still be us … planning spending the rest of our lives together."

"I'm sorry."

"_I_ ruined it, Kate. Not you. Please don't be sorry." He stared at his hands which were tightly clasped together upon the table.

I placed one hand atop his, and he jumped, as if he'd been lost in thought. "Maybe one day we could be friends," I told him. "It's too fresh right now."

He nodded. "One day."

"Right now, though … Leave before you run into Oliver. And please convince Cassie to go with you."

He nodded once more. "It was good seeing you, Kate. You look absolutely beautiful."

"It was good seeing you too, Roger."

And with one more sad look, he left his seat and took off into the dancing crowd.

…

I renewed my search for Oliver, asking anyone and everyone if they had seen him. I must've come off as a psychopathic fan girl to some, but I didn't care. I needed to find him as quickly as possible. I scoured the entire balcony and found neither hide nor hair. And no one else had seen him.

I started to worry.

I rolled my eyes at the nostalgia.

My search eventually ended up asking the bouncer at the top of the stairs. He told me that he'd left the VIP section just under an hour ago.

Left? Without me? My heart dropped in disappointment, and then constricted in worry. What if his and Roger's paths had crossed as they were leaving?

I rushed to leave the club, cold air hitting me like a tonne of bricks. But I ignored it, hell-bent on finding him before something horrible happened.

The sound of shouting brought me to an alley two streets down from the club.

The scene before me was even more nostalgic than the worry. Roger was on the floor, shouting up at Oliver and Oliver's lip was bloody, shouting down at Roger. The sound of my heels clacking on the ground alerted them to my presence, and Roger, with obvious difficulty, stood up.

"Well, what a blast from the past," I said darkly.

"Quite," Oliver snapped angrily. I frowned at his tone, confused.

"Roger, are you okay?" I asked, stepping close to the two. He nodded, apologies again in his eyes. "Then leave. Now." He did. He knew that tone of voice. I'd used it on many occasions, of which I could see that he remembered just a little too clearly.

That left Oliver and I alone in an alleyway of Muggle London. If I had thought about it then, I would have been a little nervous, but the look on Oliver's face rendered me unable to think of anything else. It was just … _betrayal_. But of what? Had he seen Cassie? Did he want to go back to her? Did he think that I wanted to go back to Roger? What was going on?

His expression was _livid_.

Very suddenly, he tried to push past me. I blocked him, shocked. "Where are you going?" He didn't speak, fixing me with an angry stare. "Oliver, what's wrong?" He didn't answer that either, and tried to push past me again. I blocked him again, and he exhaled heavily in annoyance. He backed away from me and spat out blood.

"Let me past," he said roughly.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked, surprise written clearly in my voice.

"No," he said after a moment. "I'm pissed off that they were here." His voice was short. "I'm pissed off that you came out here. And I'm pissed off that he got a hit in."

I stepped toward him, my expression deliberately soft to try and calm him down. "Let me fix it."

"No. Please, just let me past."

I reached for his hand, and he let me take it. "Ol', why did you rise to it? He and I are finished. Forever."

"You listened to him. You let him wheedle his way back in. I _saw_ you."

"He trapped me," I told him. "And yes, I listened, but he and I are over. _Completely_." He stayed silent at that. "You really think that I would choose him over you all over again? Give me _some_ credit." And just like that, he was kissing me, bloodied lip and all. I could feel him flinching, and I pulled back from him, still holding him, and him still holding me. "I can fix that," I told him, my voice a little unsteady. He nodded, eyes dark. "My wand is at my flat."

He smirked fleetingly before he held me more tightly, disapparating us both to my flat.

…

He was kissing me again as we apparated at my front door. I pulled away, laughing. "How familiar," I said, a little breathless. I frowned at my own tone, before saying accusingly, "You're too good at that."

"Sorry?" he questioned slightly, laughing also.

I opened the door, and he followed me in. "Sit," I told him firmly, most of the humour leaving me as I set about finding my wand to fix his lip.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied dutifully, but rolled his eyes.

"_Ma'am?_" I intoned incredulously. He just laughed. I felt my head swim as I placed my purse down on our grey leather couch. "You know, I'm slightly drunker than I thought."

"It's how I like my women. Liberally basted in wine."

I looked over at him sitting at the kitchen table in shock. "I think that's the most misogynistic thing I've ever heard you say, Oliver!"

"I was quoting Wilson, actually. But thanks." He smirked again, resting his elbows on the table top to inspect his knuckles, which were grazed.

"Caelan said that? About who?" He just raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Damn. Ugh, Oliver, I have to _work_ with him!" I moaned.

"Can you fix my lip soon, Medic? I'd like to kiss you again while you're still slightly drunk. I think I'm coming off quite well while you are so."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he beamed, but flinched as his lip stretched and started bleeding again. "Serves you right …" I muttered as I tried to find my wand. It was proving a difficult task. I hadn't needed to use my wand in a few days, and the twins had been over, so naturally nothing was in its usual place. Plus, the added trouble of the alcohol in my system, and having Oliver's eyes on me made it damn near impossible to locate.

I sighed, heading through to my bedroom, still having no luck in the living room. I stumbled slightly at the doorway, and I could hear him trying not to laugh at me. I grumbled quietly to myself, cursing myself for accepting and drinking so much.

"You can stifle your giggling all you like. I can hear you. And the longer I hear you, the less likely you are to get any where near me again tonight, Wood," I called through to him. The laughing abruptly stopped, and he appeared in the doorway.

"Sorry," he said sincerely. I glared at him, rummaging in one of the vanity drawers. "You don't drink often, do you?"

"Barely ever. Never have time. Too busy _trying to find my freaking wand_."

"You surely have it _some_times?" he asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Yes, and when I do, I'm healing people with it. Which is why I don't drink often."

"Um, Katie … Is this it?" he asked. I looked up from my position on the floor, looking behind the wardrobe. He held in his hands my wand which he had just picked up from my bedside table, eyebrow quirked.

"Ah-HA!" I dove for it, knocking him backwards on the bed, and I myself almost falling off the other side, having completely missed my wand. He steadied me on top of him, shock evident on his face. "Please don't laugh at me," I said, taking my wand and sliding off of him onto the bed.

"Laugh?" he said vaguely, staring at me. This caused me to smirk, which caused him to snap out of his reverie, frowning. "Don't do that again."

"Close your eyes," I instructed, ignoring him, touching my wand to his bloodied lip. He did so, and I muttered a simple healing spell. The skin stitched immediately, and I cleaned the blood away. "Brand new," I said.

"Thanks," he said, sitting up slightly, leaning back on his elbows.

"So …" I began slowly, "Are you going to tell me why you bothered starting a fight with Roger?"

He exhaled slowly, glancing away, before sitting up properly. He didn't look at me as he said, "I keep thinking that one day, I'm going to wake up and all this would have been me lying to myself for months. I'll be back in a relationship with someone whom I love, but don't even like, and you'll be back to being a total stranger, and probably ready to marry someone whom I definitely hate. And I _hate_ feeling like that. It's like you're going to disappear at any moment. And when I saw them both again, I just had this … this rush of adrenaline telling me to fight for you. I tried to run away from it, but I guess I just couldn't. I'm sorry."

I shuffled closer to him so that I was sitting behind him and rested my forehead on his shoulder. "Thanks, but … I didn't mean tonight. I want to know everything. Talk to me. Tell me everything."

_A/N_: _I know, I'm awful at updating. I apologise. Again. Although, I'm not going to say it won't happen again, because we all know that that would be a blatant lie. I've been writing this thing for far too long to update quickly. Takes me a while to remember where the heck I was going with it three years ago. :P. Hope everyone had a good Christmas xx._


	40. Chapter 40

"Everything." He stated, shifting just slightly, obviously uncomfortable. I ran a soothing, if marginally drunk, hand down his back, still with my cheek resting on his shoulder. I inhaled, relishing being so close to him, being welcome so close to him. I had no idea how I coped all those years without that smell. A smell so Oliver, it hurt a little. "What sort of everything?"

"I was so hurt by you. And you were so hurt by me. Before we can understand anything again, things need to be explained … reasoned. Otherwise everything is false and it'll all fall apart all over again. And honestly? I don't think I'll survive losing you again, Ol'." I teared up slightly, and he heard the quiver in my voice, but said nothing about it. He knew me too well.

"What do you want to know?" he said softly, his soothing Glaswegian brogue calming me immediately.

I paused, trying to unscramble my thoughts. There were so many questions I wanted an answer to. Why Cassie? Why the fighting? Why the secrecy, the lying? Why I was so hated by him for trying to live on with what I was dealt? Why he never fought to keep me? Why he never told me how he felt? Why he never gave me the chance to reciprocate those feelings and why did he never contact me? Why, after all this time, did he still value everything about me so much to treat me like I was it – his heart, his world?

Most of these questions were unfair to Oliver. The entire mess was just as much my fault as his. He would be quite entitled, if I asked those queries, to shoot them right back at me. And then what would we gain? We would begin a blame-game that could ruin us all over again.

There was one question I needed the answer to, though. One which I knew would be difficult to ask, and even more difficult to answer. But I had to ask, for peace of mind if nothing else.

"Why wasn't I good enough, Ol'?"

He recoiled from me as soon as I spoke, drawing back to look at me where I sat, dressed to the nines, though now slightly dishevelled, hunched in the middle of the bed, knees to chest. I slowly looked up at him to see shock and incredulity written clearly on his face. "How long have you thought ..? Katie …" His expression now turned to full-blown remorse. "I _settled_ for Cassie when I realised after years of loving you that I would _never_ have you because you were far too good for _me_." He took my hand gently, and I let him have it. "You were, and are everything to me. I've needed you since the day I met you – a little eight year old who could sure as hell put me in my place when I got too intense. I have never, and will never feel anything like the way I feel about you for any other person in the world, Kates. You are so far beyond 'good enough'. So far, I didn't think I'd ever be able to have you."

I stared at him, his eyes boring into mine. I placed a hand on his cheek. "You are _such_ an idiot, Oliver Wood."

His mouth dropped open. "Oi! I just sort of poured my heart out, there. That's _not_ what you're supposed to say."

I smirked slightly at that. "I'm sorry. What would you like me to say?" He glared at me a little in consternation, but said nothing. I brought up my other hand to cradle his face, and touched my forehead to his, closing my eyes. "You think too much of me. You always have," I told him quietly. I pulled away slightly, my hands resting on his shoulders. I looked up at him, his face stern at my last statement. "_I_ don't deserve _you_."

"You are absolutely deluded, Katie," he told me softly. "And it's one of the reasons I absolutely love you."

I smiled sadly. "You should have told me at school."

"I was stupid."

"Still are," I grinned as he glared.

"You realise you're talking to Britain's youngest and _most desired_ League Keeper?"

"You get cocky when you drink," I laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows at me. "But yes, I am all too aware of that fact. Which is why I think that you are absolutely crazy."

"Guilty as charged, Bell. But hey, who would want sanity when they have you to look at?"

"Are you going to stop with the compliments at all?" He smirked, shaking his head slowly. "Then prepare yourself for my _throwing up_," I joked, sitting back from him.

He was silent for a moment, staring at me, before saying quietly, "Can I ask you a question, seeing as we're outing everything?" I nodded, curiosity piqued. "You started seeing Davies _just_ after …" I winced noticeably. Oliver paused, face twisting a little. "You wouldn't have had you not seen me with Cass, then?" I didn't answer, but he knew it already. He immediately looked like he regretted every decision he'd made in his life. "Kates …" The remorse in his voice made me want to cry.

"It's the past, Oliver – _our_ past. It's what has shaped us and made us into the people we are. And it brought us here. That's what's important." He stayed quiet, sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the cream carpet of my bedroom. "Hey," I said, taking his hand. "Sad boy," I soothed, running my hand through his hair gently.

"I should go," he said abruptly.

"No, you shouldn't. Oliver, talk to me. Tell me what's going on in your head. It's what we were bad at back then – talking. All those words that should have been said were suppressed, and I don't want that to happen again."

"My head is a bit of a mess," he said honestly. "And I'm hating myself quite a lot at the moment."

"Don't hate yourself," I told him, my hand still running gently through his hair. "I should have told you."

"I should have _manned the fuck up_, and kissed you at the station at the end of fourth year, Katie. Don't put any blame on yourself. I was a coward."

I shook my head at him, kissing his jawline softly. "But we wouldn't be here if you had. And I dunno about you, but I quite like here. It's a good place to be," I told him, my breath against his skin. He shivered minutely as I kissed his jaw again.

"You're very distracting," he told me.

"Sort of the point, boy-o. Stop internally bashing yourself for something that can't be changed. The past is fixed. It's the present that we can alter to suit ourselves."

He turned to look at me, eyebrow quirked. "How very philosophical." His fingers traced my face, dragging over my lipsticked mouth. His eyes tracked his fingertip's progress with dark eyes. "You beautiful thing, you …" he said, all of a sudden serious.

I laughed at him. "I'm nothing on your ex. I'm pretty sure she's got a family of celestial beings."

"Stop talking about her. She doesn't hold a candle," he told me seriously, and I rolled my eyes. He didn't press the matter, but I knew he meant it, even if it was crazy.

I sighed, drawing back from him slightly, knowing that eventually I would have to ask the most difficult question of all … about a subject which I hadn't even shared with my best of friends. A subject which I tried to repress.

"Oliver ..."

He looked at me steadily for a moment. I could feel his eyes on me. "Kates?" he asked eventually, sensing the change in conversational direction to that of a serious nature.

"The battle ..." I looked up at him, desperate. "Please don't shut down on it. I've needed to know for so long … Please."

His eyes got dark, but he did as I asked – he didn't shut down. He shifted slightly on the bed so that he could look at me properly. "What about it?"

"You … _saved_ me. And Roger. You were there at _exactly_ the right time … I ..." I felt my eyes water at the memory, and he dropped his eyes from mine. "You were nowhere in sight, and at exactly the right time ..."

I bit my lip as he closed his eyes slowly. "I could never … let go of you, Katie. No matter how long ago I'd spoken to you, in my head you were always one of my best friends … regardless of our horrible circumstances. And even being one of my best friends, you were always the one I had particular … _care_ for. I couldn't let go of that, and so I … I kept you in eyesight." He stuttered through his monologue, avoiding looking at me.

"Oliver, your life was in danger! Shouldn't you have been concentrating on who was attacking you?"

"I preferred to not think about that. Plus, I was more worried about who was attacking _you_."

"Oliver," I groaned, eyes tearing, biting my lip harder.

"I was a little blind-sided, true – and I didn't come out of it completely unscathed. But I'm here, aren't I?"

"And thanks to you, so am I. And Roger. We owe our lives to you."

"And yet, I didn't get _one_ Christmas card," he joked.

"I tried – after the battle … You disappeared."

He nodded. "I took Cass to my parents in Glasgow. Needed to get away from London for a while. Get my head around everything that had happened. Bit of a nightmare of a trip, really. My mum really hated Cassie. Called her a 'cretinous trollop'."

"Well done, Mrs. Wood," I muttered before my filter could kick in, and he smirked at me. I briskly moved on. "So, what I want to do now is … to thank you for saving my life," I told him softly, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.

"You don't –" he started, but I cut him off by kissing him, hard. My hands buried themselves in his hair of their own volition, my body curled to his. After getting over the initial shock of my initiation, he kissed me back, slowing my frantic enthusiasm, and pronouncing it's meaning, while putting so much love into it, it almost hurt. He drew away after only a few seconds, his hands cradling my face. "I couldn't have lost you, Bell. Not forever. It would have been too much."

I stayed silent, still jarred from the rush of emotion I'd just felt. It was amazing – just one simple act with the ability to render us all motionless, thoughtless, and speechless. My heart hammered, and I stared at him while he stared right back. I placed my hand over his chest without thinking, and felt his heart mirroring mine in pace and intensity – and that was exactly the point, wasn't it? This mirroring of everything: of feeling, of doubtlessness, of soul? He reflected me, and I reflected him. A symbiosis so needed by both of us, and it was there all along.

His hand covered mine on his chest, and my other hand stroked his hair again. "You are so perfect, Oliver." He barked a laugh, throwing his head back in mirth. He looked back at me, his eyes shining brightly, and I could help but smile too. "Would you like a coffee?" I offered, kissing his hand on top of mine.

"I knew you were going to try and get me out of your bed sooner or later. I hoped it wouldn't be _quite_ so soon ..." I snatched my hand back with a scowl and slapped his chest lightly as he laughed raucously again. "Kidding, love. Kidding."

"_Just as well_. Or else you wouldn't even be in the vicinity."

"_Ooohhh_," he mocked, and slapped him again, getting up from the bed and pulling him with me. "Of course, we can do a _whole_ manner of things on the kitchen table ..." he whispered in my ear, following close behind me.

"Behave, will you?" I laughed. "This is our first date. What sort of girl do you think I am?"

"Oh, I'll bet you'll live up to my expectations," he said, almost seductively.

I blushed, refusing to look at him as I turned the coffee machine on. He was making my heart hammer without even touching me. I heard him laughing quietly to himself as he sat at the table, and all I could do was blush harder. His effect on me was embarrassing.

He settled just as I poured the freshly brewed coffee into mugs. "You don't use magic much, being a witch and all," he observed.

I turned, aware that my colouring wasn't quite normal yet, setting a mug down in front of him. "I use it all the time at work."

"It takes seconds to make coffee with magic," he commented.

"I'm just not in the habit of being lazy," I said, and he smirked. "And my mum doesn't use it since my dad left, so this is just the norm for me."

He nodded in understanding. "How is she these days? I haven't seen her since … well, back when we were friends."

"She's doing good, going on her last letter. She's worrying about Michael's wedding, and moaning about his lack of concern about it. But considering he and Dana have it all sorted already, her moaning is unnecessary."

"They're getting married? That's great!"

"Been engaged a while now, and are finally going through of it. Dana has definitely kicked my older brother into shape," I smiled fondly, leaning on the kitchen counter.

"If anyone could ..." he said, smiling too. "When's the big day?"

"March 16th. They're doing it in this super-fancy hotel. And the bridesmaid dress I have to wear is so painfully Dana, you wouldn't believe."

"Neon pink?" he laughed.

"Got it in one. I'm going to look like a fucking Barbie for a day."

"Good luck with that," he said between gasps of laughter. I pouted.

"I'm going to have to kill myself before March, aren't I?"

"Please dont," he smiled. "Such a waste. Of comedic value if nothing else," he joked.

"Oliver!" I reprimanded, before changing subject once more. "Georgia is in, what, fourth year now?"

He nodded, smiling fondly. "She took your position on the house team, and just about as good, too."

"A very proud big brother if I ever did see one."

"Very. But don't tell Gigi that," he winked.

"Oh, sworn to secrecy," I whispered, smiling.

_That was faster, hm? Hurrah. :P xx_


	41. Chapter 41

"So why Cassie, then?" I asked later, curled to him on the couch, his arm around me, his fingertips playing with my hair.

"'Why Cassie', what?" he mumbled, obviously sleepy. We'd been talking for hours, and it had reached four in the morning.

"Why her, of all people? You could have had your pick at school. You _specifically_ chose her." I played with a button on his shirt, avoiding his gaze.

He answered easily. "She was as far in character from you as I could find."

"What, smart, pretty, outgoing, successful …?"

"You know that's not what I meant. Katie … you are intelligent, and beautiful, you're one of the most social people I know, and you are the Medi-witch for _Puddlemere United_, the best Quidditch team in the UK. Don't put yourself down so quickly. I just meant that Cassie didn't remind me of you, and so it made falling in love with her easier, else I would have been comparing her to you and she would have fallen short _every time_."

"Stop saying nice things," I moaned, burying my head further into his chest.

He laughed, raucously. "Why?"

"Because I may have to kiss the face off you. I'm really not used to it any more."

His laughter died down a little. "I always said Davies was a dick."

"He didn't want me for Quidditch plays, though, so you were wrong about that. And he wasn't a dick until he cheated on me. He was a good boyfriend, honestly." Oliver had definitely stopped laughing. He hummed, perhaps sceptically. "I would be married to him now, had I not still had that little Scottish voice in the back of my mind."

"I'm your conscience?" Oliver asked, laughing again.

"Or maybe it was my heart talking to me," I wondered pensively, but at the same time, careless, as I didn't mean to say it aloud.

"Now who's saying nice things?" He murmured in my ear. I smiled into his shirt.

"I'm sleepy, Ol," I whispered. "But I don't want to sleep. I want to talk to you."

He stroked my temple softly, smiling down at me. "Oh Kates, if you don't want me to, I'm not going anywhere. That's been our friendship from the start."

"I know. It has. It's beautiful," I mumbled sleepily, cuddling further into him. "Except the horrible bit in the middle," I added as an afterthought. But that was the funny thing – sitting here, being with him, talking to him again – it was as if those five years didn't even happen, and he and I were still at Hogwarts, in the Gryffindor Common Room in front of the fire after classes … but so much better.

I wasn't sure what we were yet, but it was quickly feeling as though we were racing toward being together. And it didn't frighten or worry me. Not one bit.

"Sweet dreams, love," he breathed, his fingers tracing my features.

"Want ..." I murmured, on the brink of sleep …

…

I awoke to the sound of laughing. Hysterical laughing. Spluttering, snorting, killing yourself laughing, laughing. I blearily opened my eyes, very suddenly blinded by a bright light coming from the window. Damn sun. I closed my eyes and groaned.

"Head a bit tender, Katie-kins?"

"Go to hell, Fred."

"Hey, he got it right!"

He?

My brain stuttered, realising I wasn't in my bed, and that the pillow I had been drooling on had in fact been a person, and that person had answered on behalf of me. I couldn't process any of this, and so I relaxed against my human pillow once more.

"Of course I did. You're the annoying one. Bugger off, the four of you. We didn't get much sleep last night."

"I'll _bet_ you didn't," another voice said. "We'll be back later. Make Katie pretty again. This," the voice said, "is weirding me out."

"Get lost." There was laughing again, and my head hurt, spinning slightly as my pillow moved. "They're gone, Kates. You okay?" Oliver ...

"Uh." I couldn't even work out if I had made that sound.

"I'm going to put you to bed, okay?"

"Uh." I said again, knowing it was me this time. I was picked up by my pillow – Oliver, bridal style, my arms looped around, and my head resting. I vaguely sensed movement, but my head swam any time I thought too hard, so I just succumbed to what was happening. I felt secure, and so, as soon as I was placed down on a soft bed, I was sound asleep once more.

…

I woke, headache firmly in place in mid-afternoon. I found myself in my room – still cluttered from my getting ready the night previous, of which, I had a vague, hazy recollection. I was still fully dressed, though my shoes and clasps from my hair were missing, which I found tidily placed beside and on my dresser. I glanced at myself in the mirror and immediately rolled my eyes at the state of me.

I arose from my bed, head pounding particularly at the change of position. "Thank Merlin it's Sunday," I muttered to myself. I crossed my carpeted floor to my wardrobe, grabbing a Puddlemere sweatshirt and jeans, and headed to the shower.

…

Once clean, devoid of make-up, and altogether more presentable, I headed through the house with the intent of coffee. I stopped in my tracks as I padded through the living room when I saw Mr Oliver Wood sleeping awkwardly on my couch. After a few moments of shock, I eventually remembered the events of last night and smiled, knowing who had removed my shoes and clasps and placed them so tidily. I stroked his hair on my way past gently, careful not to wake him. I rounded the couch and watched him sleep. He was frowning a little, but other than that, looked peaceful. My stomach panged a little, but I shook my head at myself and went to make coffee for us both.

I returned some minutes later, Oliver still sleeping soundly. I couldn't help but smile again at the boyish expression he as wearing. Unwaveringly attractive as this man was, and as sought after as he was, also, he was still a little kid when he was asleep. It warmed my heart. I placed the two mugs of coffee down – both black, how we both drank it, and sat myself on the coffee table in front of him, between his knees. His expression flickered marginally, his lips smirking for a millisecond, before returning to normal. He was dreaming.

I watched him for a few moments longer, before, unable to prevent myself, I reached across the gap between us and traced his jawline with my fingertips. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't wake. I leaned across further, and kissed his cheek so softly that my lips barely made contact with his skin. I hovered a moment, drinking him in. How did I even function before I could do this?

"An agreeable way to wake up," he mumbled quietly, and I drew back a fraction to catch the brown eyes with flecks of green and gold. "Hello Kates. Nice to see you looking like yourself again."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I told him, sheepish from being caught.

"What else were you planning? I can pretend to be asleep if you want," he smirked.

I blushed, drawing back fully. "I made you coffee," I told him, passing him a cup. He took it, still smirking at me.

"You know, if you want to kiss me, all you need to do is ask me. I'd be more than happy to oblige." I blushed deeper, dropping my eyes from his, sipping my coffee quietly. I could feel him watching me, drinking his own coffee. He exhaled lightly, as if in amusement or frustration, and leant towards me, placing his cup down beside me, and taking mine from me. "How about … if I kiss you without you having to ask?" My eyes flickered up to his. He was close, and I instinctively wanted to lean back, but I stayed where I was, challenging him with my eyes. "Or maybe … I want you to ask."

"Maybe ..." I mocked, leaning towards him fractionally. "Maybe I don't want to kiss you until you've brushed your teeth."

He smiled slowly, knowing what I was doing immediately, but I didn't care.

"Then you renounce all privileges," he declared proudly.

"Privileges?" I laughed, watching him as he slumped back into the couch.

"Yup," he said evasively.

"What sort of privileges did I have that I didn't know about?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Too late now to find out, isn't it?" he said, eyes wide.

"I'm sure I could persuade you," I said slowly and deliberately.

"Oh, could you now?" he said, a smirk playing around his lips. "And how would you do that?"

"Wiles always come in handy," I told him innocently.

"That your, ahem, womanly wiles? Didn't know you had any, Bell."

I smiled threateningly at him, knowing exactly what was going on. And so did he. God, I missed this. "Then you, dear Wood, are mistaken." I leant forward towards him, my hands on both of his thighs. He smirked, his eyes sparkling. "Very mistaken."

"Yeah? Prove it, sweetheart." He was deliberately provoking me, I was aware. I hovered there for a moment, biting my lip. He stared, and I smirked. I let my hair fall over my face slightly, and watched with glee at his hand twitching to fix it.

"Mistaken, am I?" He was silent for a moment, eyes darting all over my face. His fingertips found my astray hair and he gently tucked it behind my ear, his face serious. The mood had shifted dramatically … but not in an undesirable way. "Are you okay?" I asked, slightly worried, pulling away.

His face remained serious as he said, "I can't believe this," he told me, his voice heartbreakingly soft. "I've wanted … for so long, Kates."

I smiled gently. "You're so sentimental."

"You wouldn't have me any other way," he smirked, his fingers re-tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.

"You might be right," I agreed. He smiled softly at my admission. "Do you have practice today?" I wondered, knowing that usually, Oliver had to be _some_where, and tended to blow it off when I was concerned.

He shook his head. "D'you think Phil'd have us on his pitch, all hungover? Pfft. Not a chance – no, I don't. But I do have a press … thing … And I should probably check on Liam. He tends to get himself lost on nights-out." I nodded in understanding, smiling slightly at the latter statement. "Plus, I still need to brush my teeth, don't I?"

"And shower, preferably," I said, sniffing the air in jest. In fact, somehow, Oliver just smelled as Oliver always did … really good.

"Always with the cruelty with you, isn't it?" he jested back.

I shook my head at him, smiling again. "Go on. Best look presentable for the reporters, and smell good for all the ladies to go weak at the knees over."

"I make ladies weak at the knees? Do I make _you_ weak at the knees, more importantly?" he smirked.

"Mr 'I'm-Britain's-most-eligible-bachelor' doubts either of those statements?"

"I want you to say it. Sober." He grinned wickedly, and I scowled at him.

"Fine – absolutely. You're mind-melting. That boost your already over-inflated ego?"

"I probably won't get out of the door, with this massive head of mine."

"Full of air, sadly," I said, patting him on the knee.

"God, I love you," he stated suddenly after a few seconds silence, sincerity clear in his serious voice, his eyes shining.

"Not a retort I was expecting," I coughed, jarred.

"Sorry … I just … I really do, Katie." His eyes stared into mine, and I stared right back. "I know it's too soon … and God, we're … But you don't … you know that, right?"

I blinked at his hash-up sentence, but understood his meaning. 'I know it's too soon' after you broke up with your boyfriend of five years. 'And God, we're' not even dating properly yet. And 'But you don't' have to reciprocate. He looked at me desperately. I said the only thing I could think of. "It is too soon … But you know that I do. I always have, Oliver. I just … I can't say it yet. Everything's still too fresh." He nodded, dropping his eyes. I could tell that he'd done so to hide the disappointment in them. I moved to sit next to him on the couch, snuggling in to his side, him automatically draping an arm around me, glancing at me with a small smile. I looked up at him, my hand on his chest. "But I do, okay? I really do. So no running off to sleep with anyone else, because I might just have to kill you."

He laughed. "Just because I'm a Quidditch player doesn't mean I act like one. I'd never do that to you, Katie. And no-one ever should. Definitely not to you. Absolutely barmy." I smiled a little sadly, but it turned into a happy one as he kissed my forehead and stroked my hair. "How could anyone think they could get better than Katie Bell?"

"Oh shut up trying to get into my pants, Wood," I laughed, and he barked one also.

"I'm not!"

"Sure, whatever. Behave, yeah?"

"Yes ma'am," he winked, and pulled me closer.

"When's this press conference?" I queried, getting comfortable.

He glanced at his expensive wristwatch. "In about an hour."

"Damn," I groaned. "Can't you like … _not_ be an important influential Quidditch player, just for one day? I'm seriously comfortable here."

"Mmm," he said, dropping another kiss on my hair. "Sorry about that."

"You will be, when you attempt to move," I said, threat in my voice.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Try it," I dared, and he did, and my nails dug into his flesh, not quite hard enough to mark him.

"Jesus, Katie!" he exclaimed, then laughed.

"I warned you."

"I was _going_ to ask you to come with me, but if you're going to be impertinent, then ..." he joked. "You need to be announced at some point. Though I'd probably have to clear it with Phil first, but I can't see him having a problem with it. If anything, you being there will thankfully … take the spotlight off of me a bit."

"I doubt that," I said, laughing at his attempt at modesty.

He smirked lightly. "You think I like it. You've known me since I was eleven years old, and you think I like the attention they give me." He stated, rather than questioned, an odd look in his eye.

I looked at him for a moment from my position by his side. Unusual as his expression was, I could comprehend it. He was disappointed, but understood my assumed presumption.

I was unsure what exactly my presumption was, though. It was true, I had known Oliver for a decade, and he was one of the most gracious people I knew. But five of those years, we had not known each other. We had been different people. I knew, at least, that I had changed considerably in character. Less childish, less romantic, even, and less trusting. More knowledgeable, certainly, but in select few subjects, and more patient. Did he really suppose that he hadn't changed at all? Because he had. He was not that protective, careful, self-disciplined, manically obsessed boy whom I knew and was in love with five years ago – no. He was different, but still all of those things which made it so easy to irrevocably love him. He was changed in ways which I was uncertain of. Possibly due to fame, or perhaps due to his relationship with an insufferable woman. I was yet to experience what had changed, but I could see it in his eyes. Age beyond his years, and an inexplicable listlessness, but … in some ways, Oliver was more comfortable in himself – at the very least, the man could flirt … Good Lord, he could flirt.

I watched him watch me curiously. He eventually spoke, after some moments of silence. "I really need to go," he told me. "Are you coming?"

"Ollie ..." I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek.

"No one's called me that in a while," he smiled. He took my hand gently from his cheek, and held it. He wanted to say something, I could tell. He took a slow breath, looking down at my hand in his. "Arrogance comes with fame. It's expected of you. I hate it, but I know it's embedded already. I just … Kates," he looked up at me, his eyes intense."I don't want that to be me. It wasn't me, not before … Cass, she ..."

"It's not you. You love the game, Oliver. Not the fame attached. I know that."

He smirked a little. "I like the fame too. But I have a feeling that in the future, I'll hate it. Probably the near future. Guaranteed that after tonight, the world will know of the scandal in my life, and probably yours too, and turn both of our lives upside down."

I frowned. "I don't care about what people think happened, and nor should you."

"I care about what people think happened, because it affects me, unfortunately. Anyway … Really need to go."

I eyed him a moment, before nodding. "Two seconds," I told him, and rushed off to my room to change into something more presentable to be photographed in.

Five minutes later, in a black skirt and cobalt blue shirt, my hair tied up, light make up on my face, I was ready to go.

"Wow. That was _fast_," he said, standing up. "If only all women were so organised!"

"All are. We take a long time just to screw with you."

"Ah, now, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to betray your sex like that," he laughed.

"Pretend not to know, and all will be fine. Come on." I grabbed my bag and coat, and his hand.

He smiled, looking down at our hands. "You look nice," he said.

"You look like you've spent a night on a couch after drinking too much."

He let out a bark of laughter, his eyes shining. "If I was arrogant before, you'll soon knock me down a peg or two, Kates." I smiled, and he squeezed my hand lightly. "Thank you."

He dipped to my level and kissed my cheek, then disapparated to his and Liam's flat.


	42. Chapter 42

'Flat' was an understatement. A _massive_ understatement. The place was utterly beautiful and _huge_. Quidditch income obviously makes for gorgeous living.

Once I was able to pick my chin up from the beautifully varnished wooden floor, and when Oliver had managed to stop laughing at little quaint old me, he kissed my cheek again.

"A bit flashy, don't you think?" he asked. "Liam all over. Especially the whole 'everything white' crap."

It looked like a show-home. Panoramic windows and modern white couches, with white walls and thick white rugs, glass tables and a massive wall-mounted white wide-screen television. Pristine, clean-cut, and astonishing. I was stunned.

"It's … wow."

"I think that was the reaction he was going for, actually. I'll let him know he could have his way with you." That snapped me out of it. He was laughing again at my scandalised reaction, so I just scowled. "Kidding … kidding."

"Scarily enough, I don't think you were ..." I muttered as he led me through the beautiful living area.

"Liam! You alive mate?" Oliver yelled down the hallway, banging a door as we passed. We heard unintelligible groaning, and Oliver flashed a smirk in my direction. "I think he's fine."

"He didn't exactly sound fine."

"Believe me – that's fine. Come on. I'll show you my room."

Oliver opened a door at the end of the large hallway to another beautiful white room with panoramic windows, showing the London skyline. The centrepiece of the room was a low-set black leather king-sized bed with crisp white sheets. There were trophies and photo frames filled with pictures and posters all over, completely ruining the clean-cut look of the room, but completing _his_ room. I could smell him as soon as I walked in, and my surroundings made me immediately comfortable – just like his room at Hogwarts. I walked past him in the doorway to look around and sit on his bed, cross-legged, holding a particular picture frame in my arms.

He was watching me with a soft smile. "I think I know which photo that is. Quidditch cup?" I shook my head. I felt a little tearful at the rush ofemotions I'd felt when I'd seen it. I held the frame a little tighter. "Ah," he said in realisation, noting my expression, coming to a stop in front of me. He brushed the back of his hand around my jawline, and smiled. "I hid that one for five years," he laughed, a little awkwardly.

"How...?"

"Apparently the twins had that Creevey kid spy on us for a while. There are tonnes. That one's my favourite."

I looked down at the photo, watching as I slept on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, head resting on a young Oliver's chest, his arms wrapped around me. Picture-Oliver opened is eyes momentarily to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead for a few seconds, before smiling softly and resting his head atop mine.

It looked so peaceful and contented. I felt like crying that such a perfect moment had been caught on camera and made a mental note to thank the twins for being total creeps.

"I'm glad you kept it."

"I'm glad you don't think it was incredibly stalker-y that I did," he laughed. He sat next to me on the bed, his hands on his lap. We sat in silence for a moment, both staring into space, knowing that we would have to rush to make the interview, but also neither wanting to break the moment. Eventually, he turned to look at me, his eyes and expression soft. We held eye-contact for a moment, and he smiled gently. "We really should go."

I nodded, and allowed him to take my hand and pull me up into a standing position. I let the picture frame fall onto the bed and stopped him in his mission to get me to the conference. "Oliver," I said softly, and he turned to face me, confusion evident in his expression. "I just can't help the feeling that it's all going to fall at my feet again. The stupid, inexplicable feeling that is preventing me …" I took a breath to steady myself. "That's preventing me from everything."

"You don't have to explain." He touched my hair with his fingertips, and smiled warmly. "I'd wait for forever for you."

I nodded seriously, breaking eye contact. I took his hand from my hair and weaved my fingers through his, smiling sadly, knowing that he just might have to.

–break–

"Oliver, how do you feel about Cassandra Nolan's admission to Witch Weekly that you are the father of her child?"

The question from the reporter reverberated in my head, nausea washing over me. The interview abruptly came to a close, and Oliver was ushered off by his Publicist, face blank and pale.

I apparated before any more questions could be directed at me, straight to my flat. I arrived on my bedroom floor, slumped against the wall. She was pregnant. Everything was over. I'd lost Oliver forever. I stayed there for what seemed like a few minutes, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. In actuality, it had been several hours. When I blinked, I realised that it was dark, and that the sun had gone down. I tried to move, but found that I couldn't. My limbs wouldn't work. My mind wouldn't work. I gave up trying. I felt destitute, catatonic. I could barely breathe, never mind move.

It hurt to think of his name again. I thought that was a thing of the past.

I vaguely heard a ringing coming from my handbag that was still clutched tightly in my hands. I let it ring out three times. The fourth time, I picked it up and answered, not even glancing at the caller ID.

"Hi," I heard myself utter.

"Kate?" I almost dropped the phone at the voice that spoke.

"Roger?" I asked.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. "I heard something went wrong at the press conference today. Puddlemere's lawyers have basically shut down Witch Weekly. What's going on?"

I couldn't answer for a moment. The words stuck in my throat, heat flushing my face as tears welled in my eyes for the first time. "Why are you calling me, Roger?"

"I … wanted to check if you were okay. It seemed big."

"It's really nothing to do with me."

"Then why are you crying?" I stayed silent. "Look Kate, I know I messed up big time – irreparably – but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. It was your first press conference and it's ended in a legal battle. I would have to be an emotionless asshole to not be concerned."

"As I said, it's nothing to do with me. I suggest you speak with Cassie." And with that, I hung up. I threw my phone across the floor, and it clattered into my wardrobe. I struck the tears off my face and stood up determinedly, spurred by my anger at Roger. But I knew that my anger wasn't for Roger – it was for myself. I actually expected that things could work out. I gave myself hope that Oliver and I would finally be together.

I checked the clock, noting that it was past midnight and I started at 6am at the Stadium tomorrow. I picked my phone up, seeing that a message had flashed up. It was from Oliver.

'I love you. I'm in love with you. I will always love you. You. x.'

I let the tears fall once more as I turned my phone off. I lay down in bed, fully clothed, tears streaming down my face but not making a sound, the mark of the truly heartbroken – silence.

-break-

I woke the next day at 5am and dragged myself out of bed, into the shower, then into the kitchen, desperate for coffee, and ideally, another life. I gulped the hot liquid, uncaring as it burned its way down my oesophagus. The microwave clock read that it was 5.45am, and that I shouldn't be late on my first day.

I apparated into the medical centre at the training grounds, and was greeted by a concerned-looking Caelan Wilson.

"I heard about what happened yesterday, Katie. Are you okay?"

I smiled. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I thought you two had something going on?" he asked innocently, but you would have to be stupid not to spot the ulterior motive.

"We've been friends for a really long time. I'm just happy for him." The words burned in my throat, just like my coffee had earlier in the morning.

Caelan eyed me for a moment with his shocking blue eyes, obviously disbelieving of my sentiments. But I didn't really care what he thought – It was all I could do not to collapse to the floor again. I had to be strong. He sighed, sensing he wouldn't get any more information out of me. "We have physicals today, since it's the start of the season. So, there's files for each of the team members. It's just height, weight, blood pressure, bloods, stress tests and auscultation. Apparently we have to separate the genders, so you have the girls."

"That's … just Joss and the reserves? So I have three and you have eleven? That doesn't seem fair on you."

Caelan laughed. "Do you really want to be in that situation with Lewis and Alex? And anyway, Oliver isn't here. Only ten."

I looked at him, a bit unsure, knowing that that arrangement definitely wasn't fair on him, but, distracted by the knowledge that Oliver wasn't at practice today, I left it. "If you're sure," I told him.

"Of course I am. So? Shall we get cracking?"

-break-

All the physicals were over with by 11am. Joss, upon entering the exam room, said nothing and hugged me, tears threatening to escape her eyes.

That just said it all.

I sat on my own on the bed, staring into space as Caelan finished with Benjy in the next room. The clean, clinical walls stared back at me, giving me none of the answers I was asking of them. Why is this the way my life is? What heinous crime did I commit in this life or another to deserve this amount of bad luck? I love him. Why isn't that enough?

I carried on staring for a long while. Caelan eventually finished, and we went to watch the team train, it being a 1pm session. He kept giving me furtive looks as we prepared the first aid bags at the side of the pitch. I determinedly got on with what I was doing knowing what he was thinking. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't even want to think about it. Unfortunately my brain gave me no choice in the matter, but my mouth, on the other hand, definitely was in charge of voicing these thoughts, and not one had passed so far, and wasn't planning on changing that fact.

"Katie?" I looked up from my task of refilling the tendon-reparo vials to my colleague beside me. He had a very concerned look on his face. "Sweetheart, you're shaking. Are you okay?" I looked down at my hands in surprise, and he was quite right. I was in total tremor.

"I ..." I faltered, knowing that if I told him that I was fine, he would know immediately. "I didn't realise I was shaking. That's weird."

"Do you feel okay?" he asked, taking my wrist and feeling for my pulse, placing his other hand on my forehead to feel for a temperature. "Palpitations, fever …?"

I shook my head. "Neither. I don't really know what's wrong."

"Maybe you should head home. It's already 3. Their session should be about done, then it's just the physio stuff. I've been getting on fine doing that myself."

"Caelan, thanks, but it's my first day. How bad would it look if I went home early?"

He shrugged. "Everyone managerial are dealing with Oliver today. I wouldn't worry – I won't tell." He smiled.

Still, I shook my head. "If I feel unwell, I'll let you know. It's probably just a lack of sleep and nervousness of it being my first day in a new job. I can stay. No problem."

-break-

By the time I got home at 5pm, I really did feel unwell. Mostly because, when I turned my phone back on from the night before, I had seventeen missed calls from Oliver. A few tears escaped me, then, as another came through. I couldn't answer. I tried to, but my finger just wouldn't push the button. I knew what was coming … and what could I say to him telling me that he was getting back together with the future mother of his child? What is there to say to that? Congratulations? All the best? No. I wouldn't do it. I couldn't. Why should I? There was no need to be gracious. _I_ wasn't pregnant with _Roger's_ child.

Roger.

Roger had been sleeping with Cassie, too! It could just as easily be _his_ child. What a mess. I felt guilt flood me as I found myself wishing that it was. I sighed and made myself coffee, sitting on the windowsill to watch out over Diagon Alley. It was out of my control. Very different from other bad experiences that I'd had with Oliver.

-break-

Later, Alicia and Angelina returned home from work, both unaware of what had happened in the past 24 hours. I told them, and I was comforted by my friends, not that their efforts particularly worked. I was still miserable, and I was sure that that wouldn't change in the near future. The twins joined them in their efforts, but proved unsuccessful also. George was the last still with me, sitting on the floor next to the windowsill.

"Katie … please say something, yeah?"

I hadn't realised that I hadn't spoken for some time. "Sorry, George." My voice didn't sound like my own, and I laughed at myself slightly.

"What's funny?"

"I'm pathetic."

I heard him huff behind me, and he hit my shoe, being that it was the closest thing of mine that he could reach from the floor. "You're not. You're human. Things are allowed to affect you, you know." I didn't answer him. I continued to watch as my breath clouded the glass. "Do you really think he'll go back to her after what she did?"

I felt a pain in my chest, but answered him anyway. "Oliver isn't a bastard. She has no family. Of course he will."

"If its his," George muttered. I looked round at him. He had his nose in his phone. He looked up when I turned and put his phone in his pocket. "I'm going to go, petal." He stood up. "Make sure you eat tonight. Okay?" And with that, he was gone. I watched him as he crossed Diagon Alley and disappeared out of sight.

I breathed a sigh of relief to being left alone, ending in a sob as I began crying once again. I leant my forehead against the cool pane and closed my eyes, forcing the remaining tears out of my stinging eyes. I had to stay strong and get on. The British way, and all that. Sure, it was hard, and I'd lost the love of my life for a second time, but it wasn't the end. My story hadn't yet come to a close – I wouldn't let it. I tried my best to right everything, and this is what life gave me, so I just had to take it, stand up, and move on.

With this renewed sense of resolve, I sat up, wiped my eyes and happened to glance out of the window as I went to get up. Whom I saw stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't breathe when someone began hammering at my door. I stared, wide-eyed, unable to move towards the sound.

"Kates? Katie!"

At the sound of his voice, I ran to the door, buzzing the downstairs door, then opening the apartment one. I watched as he ran up stairs, not stopping until I was in his arms, and he was kissing me. Nothing else mattered but him kissing me and me kissing him, and him and I together.

He drew back to look at me, a desperate look in his eyes. Tears overflowed my lashes once more, and he kissed them from my cheeks.

"I love you," he whispered. He kissed me again, and repeated himself.

"I love you too," I said, crying full-out. He kissed me, hard, and kicked the door closed.

-break-

_A/N: I'm awful. I know. I'm sorry. xx_


	43. Chapter 43

"What now?" I asked nervously, my underwear firmly back on. I sat up in bed with my back to the man beside me. Oliver had his eyes closed, his face blank. I knew this, but I still couldn't look at him. I also knew that he was still naked, therefore my cheeks were still flushed. "What _now_?"

"What do you mean, Kates?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"We've just created another load of problems for ourselves. We let our … our emotions and hormones get the better of us, and now I love you even more. But I'm going to have to let you go again, aren't I?"

I felt his hand on my back. "Are you?"

"She's pregnant with your _child_, Ol'. You can't just walk away from that."

"I can't walk away from you, either. And I'm not intending to do so." I groaned, my head in my hands. He had sat up, and hugged me from behind, his arms around me and his chin on my shoulder. "I love you, Katie. I'm not letting you go ever again." I didn't realise that I'd started crying again until Oliver caught a tear from my cheek.

"You do realise you're still naked right now?" I said, wiping my eyes.

Oliver laughed. "Do _you_? Need I remind you that I'm _Oliver Wood_?"

"Get over yourself," I laughed, shoving him off. He caught me and pulled me back with him. "I've known you since you were a scrawny eight year old, Ollie."

"Hey! I was never _scrawny_." He bit my shoulder gently, and I yelped. "Aye, shut it." I laughed at him again, a little sadly this time. "What?" he asked, ever the perceptive one.

"What now?" I asked again, tuning my head to look at him.

"Well," he said, "First," he continued, his hands sliding down my hips, tugging at my underwear, "These can come off."

I slapped his hand, and he bit my shoulder again. "Oliver. I'm serious."

He sighed. "Yeah. I know."

"Have you spoken to her?" I asked him, turning my head away, unable to look at him.

"No. She's gone. Not in the house, not at any of her friends. I even had my lawyer call Davies. No-one's seen her. But look, it doesn't matter. It bears no affect on what happens here, with us. I love you, you love me. We're together and that's it. If she's pregnant, and it's mine, well … I'll have to deal with that. _Me_. You have nothing to worry about." He kissed my shoulder this time. "It's going to be okay, Kates. I promise."

I felt in my heart that he was lying to me to save me from what was really happening. I could tell that he wasn't as together as he was making out right now. Oliver is many things, but impulsive and spontaneous he is not. This – me and him, together – it was out of character for him. He was always so careful and thought everything through. And now, here he was. Not thinking things through.

"It's not just you, though … It's her too, isn't it? She has a say in it all. What if it comes to the point where the only way you'll see your baby is if you're with her? You can't sacrifice that for me, Ol'. I can't let you."

He sighed heavily, glaring a little. "If she wanted a say in it, she would have come to me first, rather than telling a magazine that she was pregnant. As far as I'm concerned, from a legal point alone, I have a better hand than most fathers do, purely because of the sheer publicity of the thing. And _she_ caused it. Now can we please stop talking about it? We just had the most inconceivably amazing time, and you're ruining it." He kissed me, hard.

I pulled back, sliding away from him on the bed. "We did a really, really stupid thing, you mean."

His brow furrowed, and he leaned over me. "Stupid? How was it stupid? We had sex – amazing, mindblowing … God! Seriously, Kates. I can't even tell you how long I've been waiting to do that, and -"

"And you waited until it was completely tainted by this."

"I _needed_ you. You didn't pick up the phone. I had to hear you tell me that you loved me too. I couldn't stand to think for a second longer that I'd lost you. I _refuse_ to lose you again. When you did, I just … I lost all control."

"But that's not you."

He stayed silent, hovering over me, staring into my eyes. I stared right back, struggling to control my breathing with all the emotion surging through me. He took a slow breath and whet his lips. "For the first time, Katie, I feel like myself. I finally feel like I am who I'm supposed to be. I've fulfilled things that were set out for me to fulfil. You were the last puzzle piece, and thank God, because I was sick of trying to fit myself together. _I need you_. To hell with everything else. I want a life with you. Children with you. I want to see you cheer me on from the sidelines at games. I want a house that's only ours. I want to be able to hold you whenever I want. I want to kiss you … love you. I want your heart to want mine forever, Katie. I can't see a future without you in it … and if there is one, I'd rather die than live it."

"Don't say that," I said, closing my eyes as tears began to fall.

"I love you, Bell. I'm sorry – but nothing will ever, _ever_ change that."

The tears fell faster as he placed the most gentle of kisses on my lips.

-break-

The next few weeks passed in a blur. I felt that I was either working, worrying, or spending time with Oliver. There had been no hide nor hair of Cassie Nolan, despite best efforts by the Puddlemere United legal team, and the Wood's family lawyer. Oliver, although he was trying to hide it, was worried. And of course, this was made more obvious whenever a journalist asked him of any developments. That was often.

I still hadn't really grasped what was happening in my life. I was working for Puddlemere. I was in … I suppose a quasi relationship with that team's star Keeper. That Keeper was _Oliver Wood_. The same Oliver, but not the same Oliver that I had been in love with since I could remember.

I don't even know.

I sat on my windowsill with my mug of coffee – my patented position – watching as rain hammered the panes. I heard someone open the door, and I assumed it was one of the girls, so I didn't turn around.

"Hey," the soft Scottish brogue greeted me just after placing his arms around me. "I have something to tell you."

"Hmm?" I said, smiling, feeling seriously contented.

"Firstly … you smell amazing, and I love you," he whispered, burying his face in my hair, taking a drag as if from something as addictive as a cigarette. "And secondly … she isn't pregnant."

My world stopped for a moment, and I ceased breathing. "Sorry?"

"Theo found her. She made it up. She lied." I could hear the glee in his voice, and knew that I would ruin this blissful news with the questions I had to ask … But that was just it. They had to be asked.

"Are you sure?" He kissed my neck, and I moved away from him.

"Yes. Absolutely sure." He sounded confused, but I couldn't be sure as I wasn't looking at him. I was still staring blankly at the glass.

"How?"

"How what, Kates?" he asked, definitely confused. "I thought you'd be at least … relieved, or happy, or … something?"

I turned, tears rolling down my cheeks. "I am, Oliver. I am. It's just … she's lied about so much already. How can you know this isn't just another? Don't you care that … that you might have a son or a daughter in however many months, and you won't even _know_? I couldn't stand to find out that her not being pregnant was a lie, especially after any length of time!"

Tears were in _his_ eyes, now, and I immediately felt immeasurably guilty. He cleared his throat, ignoring the emotion spilling over. "Of course I care. _Of course I care_! How could I possibly not care? I _can't_ be sure, at the moment. And I won't _be_ sure until I see her. All I know right now is the answer that she gave to my Lawyer, and I have to believe that to …" Oliver fell silent, and looked at the floor, just as the first of his tears rolled slowly down his cheek.

I scrambled to get up, desperate to placate him. My arms were around his neck, and his nose was in my hair once more. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ol'."

His arms tightened around me, so tight I could feel his heart beating against my chest. Strong, rhythmic and hot. It was all I could concentrate on – his breathing and his heart beating. It was all that mattered, in that moment, and in most. Him – his lungs, his heart, his blood – reverberating against me. My heart would never match his in intensity, but it matched his rhythm, and his heat. He melded with me in ways I never even believed possible.

"Don't apologise," he whispered against the skin of my neck. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"I love you," I said simply, my eyes tearing up once again.

He pulled back in the embrace, placing his hand on my cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb. "Kates, I love you more than I ever believed possible to love. You are my everything." My tears flowed as I looked up at him, not knowing what to say. He smiled and caressed away the tear-drops. "And with that thought," he said, stroking my hair, leaning in to whisper into my ear, "I still need my Physical." He winked, and I gasped, slapping his arm, but allowed myself to be pulled towards my bedroom nonetheless.

-break-

I sat nervously at the pitch side as the fans poured into the stadium. It was the first game of the season, and Puddlemere had been training hard. The game was against the Wasps – the most prestigious team in the League, winning the most National Cups in the last decade than any other team. Despite this, Puddlemere had a good chance. The team was fully prepared, they had a complete reserve team, and even the reserve Keeper was almost as good as Oliver. The medical team was now complete, thanks to myself, and we worked like a well oiled machine now that I had been present a few months. We were in good stead.

"First game of the season, Rookie. Prepared?"

"As I'll ever be, Phil," I smiled at my boss. "And the team is fit and healthy. Not one injury in weeks. I like our chances."

"That's good to hear," he said, smiling right back. He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You are an excellent addition to our extended family, Bell, and I'm so glad you and Wood are working things out. You make him a new man."

I laughed a little. "He's the same as he always was."

"And yet, a _thousand _times happier," Phil told me. I smiled sadly. "Best of luck with today. I know you'll do great."

"Thanks, Phil." He moved off to sit up in the stands to watch the match, clapping Caelan on the shoulder as he passed. He sat beside me, grinning.

"Well, Katie? Are you excited?"

I laughed at him, bouncing in his seat. "You're like a little kid."

He ignored me. "Matches are _by far_ the best part of the job – the excitement and the intensity and the action! Man! It's _ace_!"

"I would be more excited were it not for nerves. I have to run out and fix someone if something happens in front of tens of thousands of people. That's _scary_."

Caelan rolled his eyes. "Huh. If I had known when I met you that you were a scaredy-cat, I would have never fancied you, Katie. I guess I had a lucky escape when Oliver swooped in, eh?" he laughed, nudging me with his shoulder. I elbowed him and scowled good-naturedly. "Listen," he began seriously, "You're one hell of a medi-witch. You are twenty times better than me, and _I_ can do this. The team trust you, the management trust you, and above all else, the fans _love_ you. If _anyone_ is deserving of this blessing, it's you. You are the kindest, sweetest, and funniest girl I've ever met, Bell. I'm really glad I have the pleasure of being your work partner, and your friend." His billion Watt smile blinded me for a moment, and then I hugged him.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Now grow some self-esteem and get excited."

"Yessir!" I saluted mockingly.

"Now, _that's_ more like it!"

-break-

A funny thing happens when something goes wrong. It's like the earth stops revolving on its axis in that instant, and everything changes. Time moves slowly, and yet, our bodies move in a faster pace. The adrenaline pumping through our arteries disrespects the fact that the planet has stilled, and it speeds the heart, and the lungs, and the limbs. It results in there being no time to think or react to what is happening. Mostly, this happens when the disaster involves someone you love. All there is is you, the accident, and the task you have to complete to save them. No emotions are allowed to appear – not yet – not while there's still time to fix …

My hands, my uniform … I stared at them, not being able to register. Was it his? Had he bled that much? Or had I clawed my own hands with my fingernails as I waited? Waited until I found out if my best efforts of stopping the love of my life …

I couldn't finish that thought.

"The medic? Puddlemere's?"

I looked up at the voice and immediately wept. Oliver's mother had arrived at St. Mungo's, and I would have to explain what had happened. She looked utterly lost, and terrified. Oliver's father followed his wife to stand in front of me.

"I … Yes. I'm … I'm Katie."

"Is that ..?" Oliver's mum's throat caught as she gestured to the blood all over me.

"It's," I tried, swallowing, my mouth dry, "It's not as bad as it looks. It was a head injury. The head bleeds a lot. We stopped it before he'd lost too much."

"What's happening?" Oliver's dad asked me, his arm seemingly holding his wife up.

I began crying again. "They're trying to wake him up. I … I just couldn't … I didn't ..." I couldn't speak, and I sank back into my chair, my head in my hands, uncaring that they were transferring blood.

Oliver's dad hugged his wife. "He'll be okay. He's been through a lot worse. Our son's tougher than a little concussion. Sit down and wait here, Eve. I'm going to talk to Oliver's saviour, there." And with that, he took me by the elbow and took me along the corridor. "Here -" he said, taking out his wand and ridding my hands and uniform of his son's blood. "Are you okay, Katie? You seem like you're in shock. Aren't you a medic?"

I understood his confusion completely. Oliver's parents, like mine, were unaware of our connection. "I am … I'm sorry. It was my first game … I ..."

"Don't worry about it. It's just nice to see someone caring so much about my son. I'm Alex, by the way," he said, shaking my hand, then he took a breath, and set me with a steady look. "How bad is it?"

"He fell about … 40 feet. Greening came out of nowhere, and Derrickson had to swerve to avoid her. Oliver and his broom locked, and Oliver slipped. No one could react fast enough. He hit his head on the post as he fell, and all anyone could see was blood. He's not responded for a whole hour so far. With the spells that they're using, they would usually hope to have a response within two. If … if he hasn't responded by then ..." My eyes filled with water once more, and I stopped talking.

It was painful to think about. The possibility that … I could _lose_ him. The man I love. My Oliver. I couldn't. I _couldn't_. _No_!

"You're the girl, aren't you?" Oliver's dad smiled. "You're the girl he's been in love with for years and years. From school?" My eyes left his as I looked down. I nodded. "You're Kates. I could tell, just because you care so much." He placed his hand on my shoulder. "Listen, Katie – Oliver is strong. He's -"

Just then, Oliver's mum was yelling at her husband. We both turned to see her standing with a Healer. We both ran the little way along the corridor.

"I'm Healer Lomas. You are Oliver's family?"

"Yes," Oliver's father answered immediately, ignoring his wife's furtive looks in my direction.

"He would like to see you all."

"He's awake?" Mrs Wood asked, tears streaming from her eyes.

The Healer nodded. "He's responded well, and we managed to rouse him. Other than a headache and a deep gash, he is a healthy young man."

"Thank you. Really," Mr Wood expressed to the Healer, and she smiled.

"My pleasure. A lot of the work was already done for me by the Puddlemere medical team, but, my pleasure. You're free to see him now."

She opened the door to his private room, to reveal Oliver, his eyes closed and his head heavily bandaged, laying on a white, pristine hospital bed. His eyes opened as the three of us entered, and he smiled a soft smile. My eyes, and also his mothers, had started streaming once more.

"Hey, what brings you all here?" he joked. "Has someone you love's head been bashed in?"

His mum threw herself onto him, hugging her boy. "You scared the living _daylights_ out of me!"

"Love you too, mum," he said, hugging her back tightly.

His dad took his hand and squeezed lightly. "I'm glad you're okay, son. You're a trooper."

Oliver laughed a little. "All thanks to my medical team." He made eye contact with me at my position near the door, not knowing what to do with myself. "Have you both met Katie?"

Oliver's mum stood up, looking around at me as if seeing me for the first time. "Very briefly," she responded, smiling at me.

"Yes, very," his dad agreed, shooting his son an unimpressed look. "Eve, this is _Katie_. _The_ Katie."

Mrs Wood's eyes widened, and she rushed to embrace me. "Katie." I hugged her back, trying not to cry again.

"Can _I_ hug her once you're done, mum? I kinda almost sorta died today," Oliver laughed. "And thanks to her, I didn't." He smiled at me, and his mum hugged me again, then finally let go. "Come here," he instructed, and I sat on his bed, gingerly. He reached out for me, and my eyes began to tear all over again. He took me into his arms, and finally, I let myself sob. "Hey, hey. What's wrong, sweetheart?" he whispered into my hair.

"It's been an emotional few hours," I evaded through my crying.

"I'm sorry, Katie. Really sorry. I won't do that to you again."

I just cried harder, and he held me tighter.

I vaguely heard Oliver's parents tell him that they were going for coffee, and to let the rest of the family know that he was okay, and would be back later. I finally settled after a few more minutes of crying after they left, and Oliver carried on stroking my hair, and soothing me.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"What for?" I asked thickly.

"For caring so much. For saving my life. For being here with me. Take your pick."

"I didn't save your life," I said, moving off him and wiping my face free of tears. "Your Healer did."

"She told me how quickly you'd stopped the bleeding, and how you noticed that my brain was swelling. You stopped it. You _saved my life_." His tone was so heartfelt, and my own heart felt warm. "I love you."

"I love you too, you clumsy fool." I leant over to kiss him softly, being aware of his bruising which covered a lot of the left side of his face. "And it's my job. Plus, it's not like I could live without you."

"You'll _never_ have to. You beautiful, wonderful, modest woman."

I smiled. And Oliver smiled right back at me.

"Oh. And we won, by the way." I laughed as Oliver beamed and hugged me and kissed me once again.

-break-

_A/N: Only a marginally shorter wait. But it's a bit better, right? *Dodges missiles*. I'm so surprised I have any readers left at all. You are all wonderful. xx_


	44. Chapter 44

Oliver had to stay in the hospital for another few days because of his head injury. I felt it was a bit odd, but his Healer, Lomas, said that it was precautionary for professional Quidditch players. Oliver seemed quite chipper about it, knowing that he had time off from training. I, however did not, so I went to visit him at night when I'd finished.

The second night of doing this, I walked into Oliver's hospital room, only to about turn and run right back out again. I heard Oliver swear as I sat down outside, shocked by what I'd seen.

Cassie. In Oliver's arms. Hugging.

It took me a second to get angry, but it quickly fizzled out as another wave of disbelief washed over me.

"Katie?"

As soon as I heard her voice, anger returned tenfold. I stood, knocking the chair I was sitting on to the floor. "What the _fuck_ do _you_ want?!"

Cassie bit her lip, looking at me with wide eyes. "You have every right to be mad, Katie. I had to speak to Oliver. I'm sorry." And with that, she hurried off. I watched her as her blonde curls bounced off, and I fought the urge to set them on fire.

It took me another few minutes to walk back into Oliver's room. My blood was boiling, and I didn't want to shout at him. After all, it was Cassie I was mad at.

I took a deep breath, and took a step inside. I watched him lying in his bed, topless, his arms covering his face. Another few steps, and he realised that I was there. He sat up, the oddest of expressions on his face. "You okay?" I asked, sitting in the chair by the bed, rather than on the bed like I would have normally.

He nodded, frowning. "Listen, Cass was just telling me that she really isn't … well, I'm not going to be a dad. And … she was crying, so ..."

He tapered off, and I nodded. "Basically, I overreacted. I had a feeling I would when she presented herself again. Much like you did when Davies was around. At least I didn't maim her."

He laughed a little, nervously. "You okay?" he asked of me this time.

I nodded again."Sorry."

"Don't be. I fucking hate the cow too." He smiled and reached out to take my hand. I laughed and took his hand. "How was practice today?"

"Fine. Lewis broke a finger this morning. Benjy did something to his back during the game, so he's not feeling great, but he's a trooper. They're talking about having you back the day after tomorrow, so hopefully you'll be discharged before I get home tomorrow."

"You'd think I was an actual invalid with the length of time I'm being kept here," he grumbled. I smiled and kissed his hand.

"But you _are_ an invalid, pet."

"Shut up," he laughed, dropping my hand. "Come onto the bed, Kates. I missed you today."

"Screw you," I grinned.

"Don't put ideas in my head."

"_Oliver_!"

"What?" he grinned. "Come _here._"

I rolled my eyes, but stood up anyway. He shuffled over, and held out his arms, and I snuggled up to him. "Missed you too, Ollie."

He dropped a kiss on my hair, and lingered there, his fingers caressing my hips. "Also," he whispered. "I'd like you to move in with me."

I jerked back in shock. "What? Wait, to Liam's? I don't think you can do th-"

"No. Not to Liam's." He held up his hand, in which he had a key. "Cassie is moving out to Detroit to be with her family, and she gave me her key back. Move in with me."

I clutched to him, my eyes wide. "I … I'll need to talk to Ange and Alicia."

He smirked. "You don't want to?" I frowned, and kissed him. He laughed through our kiss. "I'm a good housemate. I do all my laundry, and I clean the dishes ..."

"Of course I want to. I just … I owe my friends the courtesy of letting them know that it's a possibility."

"Very fair minded of you." He smiled, and he kissed my hair again. "I just want to have a life with you, now that my past is finally actually my past. I love you, Katie."

I buried my face in his bare chest. "I love you too. So, _so_ much." Oliver laughed softly, and hugged me a little tighter.

-break-

"Angelina! Alicia! _Guys!_"

"Geezo, Katie. Where's the fire?" Angelina exclaimed as she tumbled out of her room, dishevelled. Fred towed behind, looking sleepy.

"Sorry. I know it's late." I sat at the table, and waited for the two of them to sit down, frowns on their faces. "Is Alicia at yours?" I asked of Fred. He nodded. "Okay. I'll tell her tomorrow. I have some news."

"Do go on so we can go back to sleep, Kat," Angelina rolled her eyes.

"Cassie isn't pregnant."

"Oh thank _Merlin_. That's such a relief!" Angelina threw her arms around my neck, and I laughed. Fred managed a sleepy smile and nod.

"Also, you know that house he had with her? The one with the pretty stone wall, and the ivy and the flowers? With the _three floors_?"

"Yes … "Angelina said warily, pulling back from the hug slightly.

"Well, she's moving to the US, and he's asked me to move in with him."

"Oh my god, Katie!" She proceeded to throw her arms around me again, and scream in my ear. Then, almost instantaneously, she turned on her boyfriend. "See? Katie and _Oliver_ are taking the next logical step! And they've been together five minutes!"

Fred, very uncomfortable, shot me a look for help. I laughed. "I wouldn't be moving in if he weren't so shit-scared of living on his own. Plus, you two practically live together anyway. Now that I'm going to be gone, maybe you could live here." Angelina turned on me with wide eyes, whereas Fred nodded thoughtfully. "Or Alicia and George. Whichever. I'm sure you'll work it out."

I then skipped off to my room, happy as a clam, leaving a shit-storm behind me. At that moment in time, as bad as it sounds, I didn't care. For once, everything was perfect. I was going to savour that.

-break-

"So … I take it you're okay with redecorating?" Oliver asked me, mockingly serious. I managed to close my gaping mouth at the sheer amount of gaudy, vivid hot pink on the walls … carpets … furniture … He laughed at my shock. "Yeah … I sort of gave her free reign with the decorating. I came home from practice to this, and had to pretend I loved it."

"Has she got a _mental illness_?" I managed to gasp. He laughed outright at this. "It's … it's … _hideous_. It looks like Mr Blobby threw up all over!"

"So, redecorate together?" He placed his hands on my hips, stepping closer to me.

"As long as we can do it the Muggle way," I said, grinning at him as his face dropped.

"Are you serious? That'll take … forever!"

"It's more fun. I promise it won't take that long. We'll get the twins and the girls to help. Maybe even some of the team, if you'd like? We could have a redecorating party!"

His eyes sparkled in amusement at my sudden excitement. He kissed me, smiling. "Anything you want."

I grinned against his already smiling lips, and kissed him again. "Does that mean I can paint everything pink again?" I pulled away. He pulled me back and squeezed me, ticking my sides.

"_Definitely_ not."

"D'aawww, you're no fun!" I said sarcastically. He pinched me, grinning cheekily. "Oi!" I chastised. I rolled my eyes at him, and wandered around his house – our house, I quickly corrected in my head.

It was beautiful, despite the pink. Everything was open and clean. My favourite room by far was the kitchen. Again, the walls were pink, but it didn't take anything away from the amazing room, with slate worktops, white units and slate floor; a massive island in the middle of the square room, with every cooking utensil and gadget possible on it. The entire west wall of the room was French doors which looked out on the landscaped garden outside.

As soon as I stepped through the archway, I stood stock-still, awed.

"Yeah … this is why I bought this house," Oliver said behind me.

I rushed over and brushed my hand along the slate in admiration, then turned to look at him, leaning my back against the island. "I love it."

"Does this mean you definitely want to move in with me?"

"Was there really any doubt?"

"Well, it took my awesome kitchen to convince you properly, so yeah ..." He shot me a sad look, and again, I rolled my eyes.

"Oliver, if you lived in the Shrieking Shack, I'd move in with you, still."

"Funny that you mention that … That's my holiday home." He winked at my frown of confusion, and laughed. "Actually, that's in Italy. Tuscany." My mouth popped open for a second time, and he smirked. "I knew you'd love that. I bought it last year, and I immediately thought of you. You've always loved Italy."

"I've never been."

"Hmm. Io vado a prendre l**ì, bella." He grinned again at my surprised face.**

**"You know Italian?"**

**"I can cook it too."**

**"How are you even possible?" I whispered, feeling a touch tearful. His eyebrows shot up in shock at my question.**

**"Kates ..."**

**"You're pretty much perfect."**

**He laughed, then thought better of it, suddenly realising what I had said. "Hey. Wait. 'Pretty much'?"**

**It was my turn to laugh at his upset face. "Well, you did almost marry someone who took interior design tips from Barbie."**

**"Fair point." He glared at the pink paint, and I smiled at him.**

**"Come on. You still have to show me the rest of the house." I trotted off, and heard him follow behind, sighing.**

**"I just thank God that you can look past that, Kates."**

**"I don't think we need to even say it, Ol. All's forgiven on my side."**

**"And mine," he said, kissing my shoulder as we entered the bedroom.**

**Three words. **

**Pink. Faux. Fur.**

**Her paraphernalia needed a bonfire …**

**-break- **

I was smiling. All the time. My face hurt.

At work, everyone thought I had some kind of disorder, I was sure. Because the blissful contentment I felt spilled out into everything I did. I was singing, hugging people, laughing … Very unlike my norm of quiet introvert, giving nothing of my mood away. I knew full well why I was so ecstatic. I had my dream job, dream boyfriend, dream house, I had wonderful friends, and nothing – not one thing – was out of place. I couldn't remember a time where I felt like this.

"Someone's happy," Oliver said, fresh from his shower at the end of practice. I was just finishing clearing up from the physio sessions, quietly humming to myself. I turned to see him leaning on the door frame of the treatment room. I smiled, and continued tidying the room. "You look beautiful."

I rolled my eyes at him. "What do you want, Ollie-pop?"

"For you to _never_ call me Ollie-pop again?" he said disgustedly. I laughed at him. "I don't want anything, Kates. You just look really beautiful when you smile."

I smirked at him a little, slightly embarrassed by his compliment. "Thanks. You too."

He frowned. "Beautiful? Seriously? Don't you mean, like … handsome? Manly?"

"Nope. You're a pretty little girl."

His eyes went to slits. "Hmm. Is that so?" He pounced at me, ruthlessly tickling my sides. I screeched, trying to wrestle myself free. Just as well everyone else had already left. "Take it back!"

"_Never!_" I yelled melodramatically. I managed to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was quick on my tail, and soon I was captive once again.

"You will seriously be the death of me, woman. But I love you. With every cell."

I stopped giggling and faced him. "And I love you too. And always will."

He smiled down at me, and dropped a kiss on my hair. I leant my cheek on his chest and let him hold me. I let out a contented sigh, as I had taken to doing every time I was around him.

"Shall we go?"

I nodded, pulling back. He took my hand gently, and we disapparated to my flat. Before we opened the door, we heard screaming. I shot Oliver a worried look, and we rushed inside.

It was Alicia. She was jumping up and down in the middle of the living room, clutching her hand, while George was on the floor, on one knee … Alicia spotted us first, and ran at us, almost wringing our necks. She was sobbing into my t-shirt, and clutched at us for dear life.

"Um … Alicia ..."

She let us go and turned to face George. He'd stood up, and she ran at him. "_Yes_. Yes!"

He let out a relieved laughed, and he spun her around, like in the movies. "I love you," he told her.

"I love you too!" she cried, burying her head in the crook of his neck, her hair spilling over his shoulder. He was crying too, by the time he'd set her feet back on the ground. She did some more jumping up and down, kissed her new fiancée, then rushed back to me, thrusting her newly decorated left hand in my face. "We're engaged!"

The ring was beautiful. A platinum filigree intricate band, with an oval central diamond set on high shoulders, with either shoulder finished with oblong sapphires. It almost blinded me as it flashed in the light. I hugged her tight. "I'm so happy for you!" If anyone deserved happiness, it was George and Alicia. They were perfect for one another.

Oliver and George were already hugging. "This explains why Fred was so pissed off at you, then," Oliver was saying.

"Yeah … But me and 'Lic've been together longer. Fair is fair."

Alicia and I had both turned to this conversation. "Oh my God, Fred wants to propose too?!" Alicia squealed.

George nodded. He rolled his eyes while he said, "He claimed that my doing it too stole his thunder, and made it less special. I assured him that you, nor Ange would feel that way."

"_Double wedding!_" Alicia and I both yelped happily.

Both George and Oliver's eyes widened. Oliver nudged the twin. "_Double Bridezillas_ ..."

"Oh dear," George fretted, eyeing his bride-to-be apprehensively.

"When is he doing it?" I asked George.

He shrugged. "He's not talking to me. It's been a bit of a nightmare at work. He keeps leaving the room as I'm coming in … Probably soon."

"Good, because we need to start planning!" Alicia rejoiced, doing a little skip, and threw herself once again at her future husband. "I can't believe we're getting married!"

George smiled down at her, and kissed her softly. I could tell that he was truly happy, as was she. I grinned all the more.

-end-

_A/N: There isn't even any point in making excuses, is there? I'm sorry. That is all._

_xx_


	45. Chapter 45

"_OLIVER!_"

I was going to kill him. Actually, properly completely kill him. I stood in the middle of our second floor hallway, pale blue paint dripping off me. My hair was plastered to my head, and my t-shirt – one of his – was the same colour as the walls, as was all visible skin.

"You look like that thing from Avatar."

"_THANK you, George_," I said through gritted teeth. "_Really helpful. _You know what _would_ help me? For you and your brother to _bring me Oliver's blood_."

"Mate! Fucking run!" Fred yelled down the stairs, trying desperately not to laugh, as were all the redecorating party guests.

"Could someone possibly hand me a wand? I'd like to rip my boyfriend's throat out, and I don't want to trail paint through the house," I said, in false calm. Angelina tapped my paint-topped head, and the paint vanished. "Thank you." I then calmly walked to the stairs, past the guests. I bolted down the stairs, scouring the house for my alleged _boyfriend_. But found no hide nor hair. That is, until I reached the garden, where Oliver was standing in the middle of the lawn. My eyes slitted as soon as I saw him, and I ran, full pelt _at _him. A few seconds later, despite Oliver's best efforts, we collided. Oliver fell flat on his back, and I on top of him. I pinned his hands down and straddled him. "_You_. Are a _total_. _Freaking. Wanker!_" He was laughing. I was livid. "I _HATE_ you!"

"No you don't," he laughed. "I'm sorry, love. It was an accident."

"No it wasn't!"

"Okay, no, it wasn't. But it _was_ very funny." He was grinning, but taking in the look on my face, forced it straight. "I love you. Please don't kill me."

I shoved him on his chest and stood up, kicking him slightly in the ribs. "Get up." He weighed his options for a moment, then eventually stood. I glared up at him, slapped his shoulder, then stalked back to the house.

"Kates!"

"Yes?" I shouted back at him without stopping.

"Am I forgiven?" He was hurrying after me

"Not on your life."

"How can I make it up to you?"

"Paint the _entire_ house. Tonight."

Oliver exhaled. "Seriously?"

"Yep."

"Right."

-break-

When I had gone to bed, Oliver had been painting the living room. All the team, the girls and the twins had gone home hours previous, and, although I wasn't really serious that Oliver had to paint the _whole_ house, I had let him continue, purely because I was so irate with him.

I woke up about about 4am, and Oliver still hadn't joined me in bed. I sighed. Stupid boy.

I got up and wandered through the house, trying to find him. Eventually, after checking every room on my way down, I shuffled into the kitchen where Oliver, having painted the garish pink a soft grape, was making what smelled to be pancakes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, completely befuddled by his behaviour.

"I finished, so I started making apology pancakes," he yawned. He was still covered in paint, but not quite as covered as I had been after his prank. There was now pancake batter all over him too.

"But you haven't been to bed."

"No. But making it up to you is more important than sleep." He placed the plate of pancakes on the island and leant heavily against the worktop, his eyes closing of their own volition.

"I would be more convinced of that sentiment if your eyes were able to open," I commented. I frowned. "Ollie, you didn't have to paint the whole house. And you didn't have to make me pancakes." I rounded the island and hugged him, uncaring that my best pyjamas were getting covered in paint and batter. "I love you. I'm sorry for losing my sense of humour."

He just about opened his eyes to look at me, and hugged me back. "I'm sorry for being a douche. I love you too. And to be fair, in the end I used magic for the painting. And the cooking."

I smiled at his sheepish face. "That's okay."

"I really love you, Kates." He stroked my hair, getting pancake batter all over it, but I didn't care even slightly. He kissed me, and I felt like the entire world was melting away. I struggled to pull away. When I eventually did some moments later, Oliver was looking down at me with the utmost love in his eyes.

"You'll be the death of me, Scotsboy. Come on. Bed. We've got two hours before we have to be at the Stadium. I'll eat your damn apology tomorrow." I took his hand and gently pulled him upstairs.

"You know what's the worst thing about your strop? It's our first night staying here together and we haven't even Christened it ..." He was pouting, and I was rolling my eyes.

"Two _hours_, Ol. Not a chance in hell. Shower, then sleep."

He pouted more, but nodded and did as he was told.

I'll train him eventually.

-break-

"Has he done it yet?"

Alicia rolled her eyes, flipping through one bridal magazine from the mountain on the middle of mine and Oliver's lounge floor. I was sitting with her on the white carpet, flipping through another, and handing her post-its for marking pages. "Are you kidding? He isn't even talking to George properly. He's being such a child. I mean – me and George got together first anyway. I don't understand why he's acting the way he is."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

She shook her head. "I think it's best left to George."

"Maybe you're right. But I mean, you got engaged almost a month ago now. Weren't we hoping for a twin wedding?" I placed a post-it on a page with the most beautiful shoes I had ever seen, taking mental note also.

"Just a twin?" Alicia said, eyeing me looking at the shoes with admiration, pointedly.

"What?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"What about you and Mr Wood?"

My face twisted slightly. "We're happy."

"A proposal has to be in the pipeline, though?" Alicia asked, taking another post-it from my arm and marking her place.

"I don't think so. We only just got together, really."

"Yes, but he's been in love with you since he was eleven!"

"Fourteen," I corrected.

She ignored me. "And he was engaged to Cassie. Marriage was already in his head before you both got it together. Now you're living with him, _happily_. It's the next logical step."

"Well, that's up to him, isn't it?"

Alicia smiled. "Are you going to say yes this time?"

I glared at her half-heartedly. "Cold."

"Well?"

"It's Oliver," I said evasively. "It's different from Roger."

"Katie, will you say yes?"

I stayed silent, looking anywhere but my friend. She knew the answer already, as did I. I wouldn't hesitate for a minute. I would say yes in my next breath, and I'd marry him the next. I was ashamed of this, fancying myself an independent, 'don't need me no man', post-feminist. But my happiness now depended on Oliver and his love. All of that is out of the window, and I was glad for it. Because all that ever is in any woman is that they haven't found someone who respects and is devoted to her. And so far, Oliver has been that someone to me.

I realised that that internal monologue may as well be my vows, so I sighed and nodded to her. "Yes. I will. Not saying that I expect it soon, but if he does propose, I'll say yes."

She made a little shriek, and I looked at her witheringly. "Like you're surprised."

"I'm just glad you've _finally_ admitted it."

"Shusht," I said, smiling a little. "Anyway. Back to Wedding shopping, yes?"

Alicia grinned and threw me another magazine.

-break-

"You really do look utterly beautiful tonight, you know that?" Oliver whispered to me as I passed him. He held the front door of our home open for me after yet another wonderful, perfect date. I still held the white rose he'd bestowed upon me at the beginning of the night. My feet slightly ached from dancing, and I knew my cheeks were flushed from the cold air outside, as well as from his comment.

He closed the door behind us and took my clutch and my rose from me, setting them down on the entryway table. His hands trailed up to my shoulders, and down my back, caressing my lightly curled hair on their way. They settled on my waist, and drew me towards him. I looked up at his kind, soft eyes and a small smile appeared on my lips. He kissed them and made the smile enhance. His forehead rested on mine, his nose slightly skimming mine.

"Do you?" he persisted. My smile faltered, self-consciously. "I love you, Kates. I don't think any emotion I've felt in my life could compare to this." I placed a kiss on his mouth and my hands found his broad shoulders, then neck as he drew me even closer to his body and deepened the kiss. I laughed a little as I pulled away at the little sound of protest that was uttered by my boyfriend. "Must you?" he grumped. I slipped out of his arms, smiling consolingly.

"Sorry, I need to take these shoes off." He followed me to the lounge, whimpering the whole way.

"You're such a tease ..." he whined, trying to take hold of me from behind. I raised an accusing eyebrow at him. "Well, admittedly, it's not difficult for you to get me all hot and bothered, but I'm pretty sure that time was intentional." He slumped down on the couch, watching me with dark eyes.

"Hmm," I hummed, watching him with amusement. I slid the red heels I was wearing off. The whole time, his eyes were on me. "Who says I'm done?" I couldn't help my bubble of laughter as his eyes lit up like Christmas trees.

"Give it your best shot, Bell."

"Are you sure you mean to challenge me, pet?" I knelt on the floor in front of him, watching as his eyes darkened to pitch. "I can continue teasing for an eternity, you know?"

His lips formed a small 'o' as my fingers found the zip of my black dress and let it fall down leaving me in my underwear, all black lace. I smirked as I stood up in front of him and sauntered out of the room to the bedroom.

It took him a few minutes to follow me, but I laughed as he picked me up bodily and threw me onto the bed.

-break-

'_We got married!'_.

I read the text flashing on my screen again, clutching the sheets around me.

"Oh my God."

_'We got married!'_

Alicia was going to kill her.

"What's wrong?" Oliver asked sleepily from next to me.

I mouthed wordlessly at my phone for another second, before saying, "I think Angelina and Fred eloped."

Oliver sat up to look at my phone. "Oh fuck. Mrs Weasley is going to kill them."

Suddenly there was a thundering at the front door. "Never mind Mrs Weasley. What about Alicia?" He shot me a worried look as I threw my phone down and quickly dressed in one of Oliver's practice shirts and shorts, running down the stairs to answer the door.

"What were they _playing _at?!" I could hear Alicia before I even reached the door.

"Sweetie, I don't know. Try to calm down." It was George trying to be soothing, but I could hear he was hurt, just from his voice.

I opened the door. As I heard Oliver reach the bottom of the stairs. "They've gotten married! With total strangers present!" Alicia said, tears streaming down her face. "I mean, are we that horrible friends? To not deserve to see them get _married_, for heaven's sake? I've known that girl for fifteen _years_! And Fred is George's _twin!_ He knew him in-utero!" She stormed through the house to the kitchen. "Do you guys have any _seriously_ hard liquor?"

George was biting his lip as he followed his fiancée to the kitchen. "Are you okay, bro?" Oliver asked.

"'Bro'," he laughed in derision. "Brother is a sentiment I'm unfamiliar with, apparently."

"Have you been able to contact either of them? Where are they?" I asked.

"Not a clue. Neither are answering their phones. Wedding night, I guess. By the way, nice sex hair, Katie."

I blushed, and Oliver tried to smooth my nest of hair down, trying not to smirk proudly. I elbowed him and followed Alicia and George to the kitchen. Alicia had found the firewhiskey and was pouring four glasses.

"Why? I mean, really, why? Why would they do this? Angelina wanted a wedding! A proper one! I was supposed to be a bridesmaid! She drew her dress at fifteen!" Alicia ranted. "There was going to be lilies and a Spanish guitarist! Why did they elope?!"

"Sweets, it's my fault. I pushed Fred into it … I proposed first, and I knew he felt like his thunder was stolen. I could feel that he was going to do something stupid, and I didn't do anything about it."

"Don't put that on yourself, George," I frowned. "They're adults. They can make their own decisions."

"Their own mistakes, you mean," Alicia interjected.

"Either. Don't blame yourself. I just wish that they had included us." I took one of the glasses of alcohol and took a sip, feeling the magical liquid lick flames down my throat.

George's phone buzzed, and he retrieved it from his pocket, frowning as he read the message. "It's Fred."

"What did he say?" Alicia said, making a snatch for his phone. She read the message and handed him back the phone. "'I'm sorry. It wasn't planned'? I could _punch _him. Does your mum know yet?"

George sighed and shook his head. "I haven't had any Howlers blaming me yet, but give it time." Oliver clapped George on the shoulder consolingly.

"Why?" Alicia asked again, sobbing suddenly. George had her in his arms in a heartbeat.

"It's their life, babe," he soothed.

"Like it isn't ours too? He's your twin brother and best friend!"

"I know, but it's beyond our control. It's done. Let my mother sort Fred out. And I'm sure Angie's mum and dad will have a few choice words with her too. On the bright side, they're happy, and they're married and together forever."

The group collectively sighed in acceptance, Alicia still hiccoughing from her fit of tears.

-break-


	46. Chapter 46

Three months had passed since, and our little group had come to accept what had happened. Grovelling apologies were made on both sides, shouting matches had burst forth, tears had flowed, and the calm had eventually come. Angelina and Fred had been happily married with none of their family or friends present, and that had been what they felt needed to be done. So it was our duty as their friends and family to see past it and see that they were happy, serene and did it for themselves – not to hurt others. They had agreed, without hesitation, to throw a party for their marriage, which Mrs Weasley had organised, despite the tears that still came when Fred's elopement was mentioned.

Angelina's family had been no happier, and her parents had refused to come initially, but after talks with their now son-in-law, had seen sense and were across the garden, dancing in the light of the candles that floated above them.

Angelina was in Fred's arms, flowers crowning her head, a soft white dress caressing her legs as she swayed with him. She was smiling, and he was too. It had been the longest both the Weasley twins had been serious in a very long time. Fred looked as if he were the happiest man alive, closely rivalled by his twin, dancing with his fiancée a few feet away.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were dancing too, having come round from Mrs Weasley's last bout of blubbering. Her husband was trying to make her laugh, and it was sweet to watch.

Other Weasley children were dancing with their partners in the garden; Ron with Hermione Granger; Ginny with Harry Potter; Percy with Penelope Clearwater whom he had eventually married after liking her since their Head Boy and Girl-ship in school. The oldest brothers, Bill and Charlie, were babysitting all the Weasley descendants, along with Bill's wife, Fleur, and Charlie's fiancee, Abigail, a girl who had been in his year at Hogwarts. The children who could already walk were running about the garden, trying to catch the gnomes, knocking into the beautifully decorated tables, and tipping over vases of flowers. Other guests were dancing, some were sitting, some were drinking mead.

Oliver had barely spoken to me all night, and had instead spoken with Bill and Fleur's twin boys, who were fantastically excited by Quidditch. His eyes had lit up when they bashfully asked him 'how he got so good'. They had tossed a Quaffle between them, Oliver giving them tips on how to keep a hold of their broom while Keeping. It was endearing to watch, and they were enthralled by him.

I instead watched as the party had unfolded, smiling softly at all the characters, emotions, and colours I saw. The sun was setting over the party, and the candles burned a little brighter in the dusk-light. The night was drawing to a close as Oliver and I headed home. We said our goodbyes to Fred and Angelina, offering our sincerest congratulations, and took our leave.

"It was a nice party, didn't you think?" I asked him having changed out of my cobalt dress and into pyjamas.

"Yes, it was. Really nice." He was loosening his tie, having already taken off his suit jacket. He was looking at me with strange eyes as he watched me sitting cross-legged on our bed.

"You okay?" I asked, smoothing my hair self-consciously.

"Yeah, Kates. I'm fine. I'm just thinking." He smiled softly, deceptively. He removed his shirt and trousers and pulled on a t-shirt. Then he came to sit with me on the bed. "I love you."

I looked around at him, and told him, "I love you too, Ollie."

His smile twisted at the nickname, but kissed me on the cheek anyway. "I'm so glad you agreed to move in with me." I sensed this sentiment wasn't finished, so I turned to fully face him, my eyebrows raised in question. My heartbeat quickened, suddenly terrified that he didn't want me to live with him any more, but I tried not to let this fear seep into my expression. "But too much of my past happened here. I've been … well, not exactly looking for somewhere else, but I happened upon somewhere ..." He looked worried about my reaction, and as my eyebrows snapped down to a frown, he started babbling. "I-I didn't want to do anything, erm, behind your back or anything, it's just – well, I know you love this place, and –"

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't want to stay here?"

"I saw your face when you came here the first time. You were in love the moment you walked into the kitchen."

I tried not to roll my eyes at him. "Oliver Wood, I'm in love with _you_. I don't _care_ where I live, as long as I'm with _you_. Idiot." I pushed his shoulder.

He pulled me to him, taking me by surprise by kissing me, hard. "I am _so_ in love with you, Katie Freaking Bell."

"That is _not_ my middle name –" I pushed his shoulder again, having gotten over the shock of his kiss. He clung to me tightly, locking his arms around my waist, laughing at my attempts to extract myself. "Why didn't you _tell_ me you were unhappy, Oliver?" I asked on giving up my mission, succumbing and hugging him back.

"Unhappy? Nothing could make me unhappy while I'm with you. And can we change it? Katie Freaking Bell sounds awesome."

"Hmm," I said, rolling my eyes at the ruining of a lovely sentiment.

"Of course, maybe it's not the middle name we need to change." He buried his face in my neck, kissing the skin there.

"Sorry?" I asked, oblivious to his meaning.

There was a beat of silence as his lips made their usual blazing trail. "So this house I was telling you about," he said between kisses. "Would you like to see it sometime?"

"Of course, Oliver. Just tell me when."

"Thank you, Katie. You're the best."

I laughed a little. "Yes, well." I could feel him grinning against my skin as he nuzzled. My fingers had wound their way into his hair, brushing his neck and scalp. "You have training tomorrow, you know."

He pulled away, his eyebrow quirked. "It's 11pm!"

"And yet we _all_ had to be in bed by 10 when we had training at school."

"I'm _in_ bed."

"I'm pretty sure that if we'd all been in bed with a member of the opposite sex you would have kicked up a shit-storm." I smirked at his aghast face.

"Yes! I would have! _Particularly_ you. And please stop putting that image in my head." He lay back into his pillows covering his face with his arms. "You're ruining my fun, Bell."

"Sorry sweetie."

He uncovered his face, a pained expression on his face. "You know, if I hadn't been such a bloody idiot in school –"

"– not much has changed –"

He glared. "If I hadn't been such an idiot, it could have been _me_ you were in bed with before practice."

"Ha! Like you would have allowed that!"

"Oh Katie, I _absolutely_ would have ..." Then a gleeful expression took over his face. "Oh _Merlin_. I've just remembered something _brilliant_."

"What?" I asked warily, concerned about this manic expression on his face.

"Remember that time you came into my room – by the way, possibly the most I've ever struggled to keep my hands appropriately positioned in all my _life_. You came into my room because you wanted me to come to Hogsmeade. Do you remember?" He burst out laughing, and I suddenly remembered – tumbling off his bed – my face glowing in embarrassment – the anger I'd felt for him.

"Oh God," I uttered, feeling my face glow all over again. I covered my face with my hands. "That was absolutely _mortifying_."

"I laughed for at _least_ three days." He was giggling like a girl, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"You're horrid. I was really embarrassed!"

His laughter renewed, and I shoved his shoulder again, before settling myself under the covers next to him, huddled to his laughing side, laughing with him.

-break-

"There's a Quidditch Pitch in the back garden."

"Yep!"

I looked at his stupidly excited face with a deadpan expression. "How did I not see that coming?" I asked of myself, shaking my head.

"Do you know _why_ there's a Quidditch Pitch in the back garden?" he asked, his eyes still shining as he looked at me. I rolled my eyes, grudgingly questioningly. "Because I want _you_ to play Quidditch again." He stroked my hair as we stood on the grass together outside our new, equally beautiful, home – Oliver had just signed the papers, and it was now ours. I looked at him, confused.

"You want me to play Quidditch again? Why?"

"Because you should still play. You were my best Chaser. You're better than Gareth and Liam certainly, and you definitely match Joss. You should have gone professional."

I shook my head at him. "I'm a trained Medi-Witch. I chose to do that because I wanted to help people, and I didn't want the injuries." I laughed. "You should know about _those_."

"Yes … I do, but I still want you to play. Even if it's just with me. Okay?" I eyed him, knowing that he wasn't telling me the full story, but he was being intentionally elusive, so I left it. "So … are you happy?" he asked, leading me by the hand to the centre of the pitch, nestled between trees in a beautifully landscaped garden in the Wizarding part of suburbian London.

"I'm happy," I replied, smiling, and he kissed me lightly.

"The house?"

"I love it."

"I love you." I rolled my eyes and kissed him again. He didn't wait for me to say it back. "Shall we go back to the old home, then? We have packing to do, apparently."

I smiled at him. "Yes. And I know who'll be doing the majority – I _just_ moved."

He groaned a little, but took my hand, kissing my knuckles. "You're cruel," he glared. "So – tomorrow off for both of us, by the way. I've arranged with Wilson. So would you like to go somewhere?"

I furrowed my brow. "Like where?"

"When was the last time you visited your Mum?"

My brows shot up. "You want to go and see my Mother?" My mind raced. I hadn't even gotten around to telling my family that I was seeing anyone after Roger. Not that I didn't want to – my family and I have a very … widely spaced relationship. We didn't speak often at all. This was bad … Oliver may take this badly …

"Sure. Well, I've never met your dad, and I haven't seen your Mum in years. And you never speak about any of the rest of your family. I'm just curious."

He took my hand again and began to lead me off the extensive grounds of our new abode.

"I don't really …" I struggled, and coughed. "I don't really want to go see them. It's weird since my Dad left … My Mum doesn't really keep in touch. She's always abroad and … Well, I didn't even talk to Michael when I lived at home. He's getting married soon. You could always come to that with me … If you want to. It's just, my family has always really been my friends anyway. Family hasn't meant much to me for a long time."

"I'd love to come to your brother's wedding – I still need to see this neon bridesmaid dress you'll be donning," he smiled, then his face grew serious again. His fingers tightened around mine. "What about your Dad?"

"Pfft, if you could find him, you'd be my hero. He was a coward. Ran at the first sniff of Voldemort making his return – leaving my Mum to look after me. I mean, Michael was grown up by then, but it was still shitty."

His eyes shone with something I couldn't put my finger on. As we reached Diagon Alley, he stopped me in my tracks, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Kates. I will never run."

Without knowing exactly why, I suddenly wanted to cry. I was in his arms before I realised what was happening. "I don't know why I'm upset. It happened years ago."

"Because it was never resolved. You never heard the reason behind your family unit deconstructing itself. But _I'm_ your family now. I'm never going anywhere. Eh … unless you ask me to, that is."

I pulled back from the embrace and placed my palm against his cheek. "Not a chance."

He smiled, kissing my forehead. "Good," he whispered against skin. "So – not your family tomorrow. What about mine? I haven't introduced you to them as my girlfriend yet. Since you're an absolute permanence, I'd like to do that. My little sister is dying to go shopping with you, apparently. She and Cass never did get on after Cass deliberately lost Georgia in Muggle London – not that the bitch would ever admit it."

I looked up at him nervously. "Introduce me?"

"Sorry Kates," he laughed at my expression. "It's not as scary as you think – they won't give you the third degree. But I'm still fairly close to my family. You need to meet them at some point. Plus, a day up in Glasgow … You'll love it, I promise."

-break-

Later that night, the twins and Oliver holed themselves up in mine and Oliver's house and battered down the hatches with beer and a Quidditch game, while myself and Angelina tried, in vain, to smooth out last details of Alicia and George's wedding, which was to take place in a month, while Alicia freaked out at every little thing.

"Alicia, sweetie, it's only _one_ violinist ..."

"It's not a quartet!"

"You've still got the _other_ violinist!"

"But it's not a quartet! Who has a _triplet_ at their wedding?! It's a disaster!"

"It isn't his fault he broke his arm ..."

"You just don't understand the gravity of this situation!"

"Alicia, please chill out. We'll find another, okay?"

Angelina and I shared another collaborative sigh.

Alicia gulped at her wine, her hair standing on end.

"Remember why you're doing this, doll," Angelina said calmly. Alicia looked at her and took a breath, seemingly calm for the moment.

"Sorry guys. This is really stressful."

"It'll be beautiful, Alicia," I told her. She nodded. "Just keep calm."

"Says you," Angelina laughed, looking down at my hands, where I had obliterated numerous napkins to little pieces.

"Sorry. I'm officially meeting Oliver's family tomorrow. And even worse, he wanted to go see my Mum."

"Well, we all know what that means," Alicia said, grinning. "He's going to ask you soon – I can just _taste_ it."

"All _you_ can taste, Spinnet, is _wine,_" I retorted.

"She's right, though, Katie," Angelina said, smiling. "If he hasn't asked you by Alicia's wedding, I'll be shocked."

I shook my head. "We're happy how we are at the moment. I don't want to end up like that," I said with a pointed look at Alicia, who was clutching her wedding folder, a mad look in her eye.

Angelina smirked. "Yeah, whatever, Bell."

"So," I said uncomfortably, "What about this String Triplet, then?"

_AN: Thinking about getting 'SORRY' tattooed on my forehead ..._


	47. Chapter 47

"Mum! Dad! Gi!"

We walked into the vast, beautiful, but comforting Wood home together, me nervously pulling at my grey skirt that Oliver had told me he liked that morning. I had asked him twelve times if what I was wearing was okay, and he'd answered me patiently every time, to his credit. But I could tell he was laughing at me internally. I didn't care. Much. There was more to worry about today.

The entire family pounced on their relative, and I was left by the way-side. I didn't mind. It gave me time to get to grips with how beautiful the _entryway_ alone was. All too soon, I was the centre of their attentions. Georgia came right up to me, grinning, and threw her arms around me. "You're not Cass! I'm so happy you're not her!"

"Georgia, behave yourself," Mr Wood chastised.

"Dad, she left me _alone_ in Oxford Street for _two hours_. I was eleven years old!" She released me. "Katie wouldn't do that." I shook my head dutifully, and she beamed.

"Well," Oliver said, a little uncomfortably. "Now that we've discussed ex-girlfriends in front of current girlfriends, I think we'll move on to introductions?" He flashed me an apologetic smile. "Mum, Dad, Gi, this is Katie Bell – my girlfriend, and the girl I've been living with for the past four months. Kates, this is my Mum, Eve, my Dad, Alex, and my little _brat_ of a sister, Georgia. Mum, Dad, you met Katie when I smashed my head open."

Well, that was a nice way to put it. I smiled nervously. "Nice to see you again Mr and Mrs Wood. And nice to meet you, Georgia."

"Please, Katie. It's Eve and Alex. Lovely to see you again. Come on, I'll give you the tour while the Quidditch fanatics pick apart Oliver's last game," Oliver's Mum laughed. She took my arm, and Oliver smiled encouragingly at me before turning to his thirteen year old sister and picked her up, hugging her.

"Your house really is beautiful," I told Oliver's Mum, taking in the hardwood floors and pretty accents.

She beamed. "Thanks Katie," she told me in her Glasgow accent. "So, tell me about yourself. I want to get to know you as much as I can, since my son is sparse with the visiting."

I smiled politely. "Um. I'm a medi-witch for Oliver's team. I also went to school with him, and I was a Chaser on his team."

"Ah, the famous Team Wood," she said, still smiling. She took my arm, saying "Let me show you something." She steered me into a room on the first floor. I knew immediately that it was Oliver's childhood bedroom. It even smelled like him still. There was a double bed, dressed in Gryffindor sheets, and all his school things were still there. The walls were covered in Quidditch posters just like his room at Hogwarts, with one exception. There was a picture of the team above the headboard of his bed, poster size, all of us grinning in formation, Oliver at the back with the twins, then myself and Angelina in front, then Alicia and Harry. It was the picture that hung in the Trophy room at Hogwarts. In the picture, Oliver was rolling his eyes and me and Angelina were flinching every few minutes because the twins had kept pinching us. I laughed at the picture. "Sweet, isn't it?"

"Incredibly," I said honestly. "I would have thought Puddlemere would be up there."

"He loved his team. He especially loved you. He was _so_ proud of Georgia when she got your spot on the house team."

"I'm glad," I said, a little uncomfortably.

"You look so worried, Katie," she laughed a little. "Sweetie, if Oliver loves you, we love you. And he loved you_ then_," she said, pointing at the team picture. "And as far as his past girlfriends go – sorry to bring her up, but she is his most significant ex – you're winning. And I love your outfit, too, so that's another point in your favour. Not a _speck_ of pink. Lovely." She winked, and I couldn't help but laugh a little. "So maybe on your next day off, we girls could do something. What do you think? Gigi is desperate for a shopping day before she has to go back to school."

"I'd love that," I said, and it was absolutely honest. Oliver's Mum was great.

"Brilliant. Come on, we best rejoin, or Oliver will think I'm showing you his baby pictures – which I _must_ do later, remind me." We both laughed loudly.

"Oh God. You two are already in cahoots. So _this_ is what nightmares are made of ..." Oliver spoke suspiciously. Oliver's Mum hugged me to her side, smiling serenely at her son, while I just laughed. "Dad's trying to cook, Mum."

"Oh dear. Katie, I'll have to leave you to save us all from Salmonella. Come down to the kitchen in a bit – I'll make you all something."

I nodded and smiled, agreeing. She left, leaving Oliver and I in his childhood bedroom. "So?" he asked, hanging off the door frame by his fingertips, looking at me expectantly.

"I love them."

"I knew you would. Told you there was nothing to worry about. My Dad's already approved. Said you were, and I quote, 'hot as hell'." He winked at me. "Gi overheard and isn't talking to him 'because she's so disgusted'. You have my family fighting over you. It's great."

"Oh, well, if it doesn't work between us, I guess at least I'll still have a chance with your Dad," I smirked. His face twisted, and I laughed. He dropped his arms, beckoning me into them. I went, and he hugged me tightly.

"You are amazing," he told me, "And hilarious, and beautiful, and _mine_, and you have no idea how thankful I am of that."

"I have some idea," I said. "I like the picture, by the way." I pulled back from our embrace, looking round at the framed team poster.

"Yeah, that was a surprise for my sixteenth birthday."

"It's unexpected."

"I loved being the Captain of that team. I loved you all. I hated being away, so my parents put this up so I never was." I smiled at the sentiment. "Come on, Gi's outside waiting for us. She wants to talk to a fellow Chaser. Apparently a Professional Keeper's perspective just isn't good enough."

-break-

After a lovely meal, and a lovely day with Oliver's family, we headed home. Oliver's arms were around me, and we were both blissfully happy on our walk back from the Leaky Cauldron, which was our closest public Floo.

"So, needless to say, my family loves you, as I knew they would. You won my Mum over in a heartbeat. Of course, being that you're a medi-witch may have had something to do with it, since she's terrified of me getting hurt … But she likes you for you, too."

"Your family are great," I told him, smiling happily. "And I'm glad I'm a medi-witch too, for the same reason. Can't have any riff-raff looking after you." He hugged me tighter as we walked a little awkwardly in embrace. "You realise that it's going to be _completely_ different with my family?" He glanced down at me, worried. I grinned at him. "Consider yourself warned. This wedding is going to be hell. And I'm going to be wearing fluorescent pink. You're going to have flashbacks all over the place."

"You're not putting me off coming, Kates. But nice try."

"Thanks," I said regretfully.

"I'll love them as much as I love you, I'm certain. Stop worrying."

"I'll warn Michael ..."

"You know that's not what I mean," he laughed. "You really don't like being around your family, do you?"

"Not all of us has a perfect family," I laughed. "I just can't be bothered to deal with them. My brother is … well, Golden Boy. My Mum wanted me to be a Healer, and I'm happy a little lower on the ladder. It bugs her."

"You _can_ do more, though. If your ever wanted to, I'd have no doubt you could do it."

"I love my job. Whether in hospital, or with the team. It's all I've ever wanted. My Mum never understood that. Plus, they …" I sighed, pulling away from him slightly, "They really liked Roger. My Mum wanted me to marry him, and stopped talking to me for a while when I told him no."

"Oh," he said slowly. "You don't think she'll like me?" His brow furrowed worriedly.

"I don't care if she doesn't."

His face twisted at my answer. "I do."

"I'm sure she will … Who wouldn't? And anyway, you're an International Quidditch Player."

"So was your ex," he deadpanned.

"Yes, but you're a _successful_ one," I winked. He shook his head at me. "It'll be fine. But it won't be as easy as my day with your family."

He nodded grimly as he opened our front door for me.

-break-

The ceremony was finally over, and the stupid parading, looking like a bird of paradise was through. I looked down at the Barbie-pink fishtail full length gown I was wearing, eyeing the frills sickly. Dana, in a similar, but grander and white gown, was crying, clinging to my brother as the photographer snapped 'candid' (which looked as if they'd been choreographed, in my opinion) pictures outside the church. Thankfully, the bridesmaids had gone before the ceremony, so there was only the group and reception pictures to take.

"Kathryn, stop trying to burn that dress with your eyes, _please_. It's what the bride wanted!" I looked up at my Mother, who was wearing cream.

"Easy for you to say. You were allowed to choose your own clothes."

"Behave yourself. This is Dana and Michael's day. Don't ruin it with your attitude."

I sighed, swallowing the impulse to bite back. "Sorry, Mum. Have you seen Oliver?"

"No, I haven't seen your boyfriend, Kathryn."

I frowned at her, knowing that she was intentionally not using his name. "Is there some reason you don't like him?"

"He's perfectly alright," she said, straightening the abomination I was wearing. "I mean, for a rebound relationship. He's fine."

I pushed her hands off of me and stormed off, saying nothing. I wouldn't my way through the throngs of family and family friends, ignoring the shouts of my name from them. I knew I'd have to talk to her properly about him. I knew that. But her abrasive way of talking was just too much sometimes. Nevertheless, she was my Mother, and she had to like, or at least not _hate_ the man that I'd probably marry.

"Kates?"

I looked up at him, only then realising I was crying slightly. "Ol'." His arms were around me in a heartbeat.

"I was just speaking to your Grandmother. Lovely lady."

"Unlike my Mother."

His hands stroked my back. He knew we'd talk about it later, and he knew it was over him, but he also knew talking about it at that moment it would make me an angry mess for the reception and remaining pictures. "Shhh." He drew back and lightly brushed away my tears so as to not smudge my meticulous make-up. "Even in that dress, you're beautiful. Don't let it upset you."

I glared down at the dress as if I'd forgotten I was wearing it. "You're supposed to laugh at it."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Of course, I'd much rather you _didn't _have it on, but we'll save that for later, hm?" he whispered in my ear, then said normally, "Love, it'll be okay. I can win over International Press." I laughed at him as he winked. "C'mon. We'll have to get to the reception so your family can glare at me some more."

I looked at him apologetically, and he smiled encouragingly, but I knew he hated it as much as I did.

-break-

I was moping the next morning. The emotional turmoil of being happy for your brother for marrying the love of his life, and being angry at your Mother for not liking yours is a little much for a whole day. I kicked the pink travesty that lay crumpled on the bedroom floor, blaming it for my crappy mood.

Oliver had left for training much earlier than I had resurfaced with an hideous hangover. He hadn't drank at all, knowing he would only have a few hours sleep before he would be in the air. Alcohol was my crowning saviour of the night previous, but it was _not_ today.

After I'd thrown up six times, I poured myself a coffee from the coffee maker that Oliver had switched on a timer for me at noon, obviously thinking I would need it by then. I smiled at his thoughtfulness, before a particularly strong stabbing pain in my head reminded me I was miserable.

I managed to pack a couple of boxes of DVDs before I had to sit down with another cup of coffee. My Mum had called already, and I knew I would have to talk to her eventually. I couldn't bring myself to hit call, though. I wanted to see Oliver first, knowing he would instantly make me calmer.

It was strange that he could have such a positive effect on me, just by him being present. But I guess it had always been that way. Even in traumatic times in my life, like when my Dad left, or when we had gone to war with Voldemort. As soon as I saw him, it was like I could breathe at last. And breathing, as a human, makes most tasks easier. It sounds soppy and sugary, and all together too effeminate, but it was what it was.

I sighed, and stood, knowing I would have to pack some more before he got home. We would be moving in a week, and boxes out counted any other object already, but there was still tonnes to be done. I had work for the next four days, and it was the same for Oliver, so I set to work.

-break-

At around 6pm, and after a lot of packing, my phone flashed. It was Oliver. '_Coach is keeping us late. I'll be home about 7 to look after you. Hope you're not suffering too much. Love you x.'_

I pouted a little at my phone in disappointment. Before too long, of course, 7pm rolled around, and he had his arms around me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone hushed, as he held me in the middle of our packed up living room, still smelling fresh from the showers. I nodded into his shoulder, just inhaling. "You were crying in your sleep last night. It was horrible. I didn't know what the heck to do."

I pulled back to look at him, apology in my face. "Sorry. I haven't done that in a long time."

"You used to do it often?" he asked, confused.

I nodded, taking a moment to answer. "When you left school, I did it every night."

He placed a calloused hand on my cheek, his whole demeanour upset. "Why?"

"Because I loved you, and because I'd lost you. They say that's better, but it's been the worst pain in my life so far." I bit my lip, remembering. "I don't know why I did it last night, though. Because I love you, and you're here." I smiled at him, hoping to quell his worried mood.

"Maybe it was to do with your Mum's disapproval of me?" I bit my lip harder and broke eye contact, still sad about that fact. I heard his sigh, and his head dropped to my shoulder. "I might have lied a little bit when I said that Coach kept us late."

"Where were you?" I asked in surprise.

"At your Mum's. I only lied because I wanted to talk to her alone."

My heart stuttered in shock and apprehension. "And?"

"I told her that this wasn't temporary – you and me. And that it meant a lot to both of us to have her blessing."

"What did she say?" My fingers clutched at his back, holding myself up.

"She didn't answer me. Not really. But she did say that she understood that I loved you. So that's something." I pursed my lips as he spoke, but said nothing. "I will win her over in time, I hope."

I kissed his shoulder. "Me too. Thank you for trying. You didn't need to."

"Yes I did," he said simply and definitely, ending the conversation. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Better than death, which is how I felt this morning. Thanks for getting me home safe."

"Always, Katie. Always."

I smiled softly as he told me this seriously, and closed my eyes as he kissed my forehead.

_A/N: Well, this was marginally faster. Be glad of my procrastination of other things._


	48. Chapter 48

Alicia and George's wedding was only a few days away. The rest of the group had taken to avoiding the aforementioned female – the groom included.

This day, however, I had drawn the short straw to distract the bride to be from her wedding day – an impossible feat, but one which had been attempted time and time again by us all. She was completely psychotic about everything. The number of voice mails I'd heard her shrilly leave George tallied at seventeen in three hours.

"_What if the flowers aren't the one's I wanted?!_"

I snatched her phone away and hung up, placing the offending object into my bag – far away from its owner. "Alicia, sweetie, stop calling George. He's had a permanent headache for three days just listening to _one_ of those messages."

"_Well then how the SHITTING HELL is he going to marry me?!_"

I sighed. "Everything is fine. I've double and triple checked with the florist. The flowers are perfect. I called the reception and all the decorations are ready to go. The caterers are prepping the non-perishables as we speak. The church has its instructions. The minister has the vows you both wrote. The dress shop is doing the final alterations on the bridesmaid dresses, and yours is beautiful and ready. The cake is being baked. Everything is _done_. Now please, chill out and stop using that high-pitched voice, because I'm starting to sympathise with George on the headache front."

She sat down. Which was an improvement to the pacing she'd been doing for two weeks. "Sorry Katie. This is the worst anxiety I've felt ever."

"I understand, honestly. But stressing so much will only upset you, and who needs that on their wedding day?"

She nodded. "Distract me with something. I can't think about Saturday any more or I'll have an aneurysm."

"Oliver and Fred are just finishing moving our lives from Cassie's house to mine."

"That's what Oliver's calling it, huh?"

I rolled my eyes and nodded. "Once we got rid of the pink, it wasn't her house any more as far as I was concerned, but I guess there were just too many memories there for him. The new house is beautiful. After your honeymoon we'll have a house-warming."

"What about your honeymoon?" she said, smiling slyly.

I glared at her. Every time I saw her we spoke about the prospect of Oliver proposing. My answer was always the same. "We've only been together a few months." But I knew in my heart of hearts that the idea was knocking about somewhere in that Quidditch-obsessed brain of his. His fingers sometimes lingered a little too long on my left hand, his face letting me know exactly what he was thinking. I knew, also, that I would never say no to Oliver Wood. Of course, he and I both knew that without winning over his future mother-in-law, proposing wasn't the best idea. At least I could count on my mum for ruining my life.

"He's going to soon. I can feel it. We're all going to be blissfully happy."

"Alicia, he has this absurd idea that I need my mother to be happy about our relationship. Until he's won her over, he won't. And so far, that doesn't look good, so maybe it'll be a decade. Even without marriage, I'm pretty happy already. I have him."

"You have a warped impression of your mum, Kat. She's not mistrusting of Oliver, or at least, not _just_ mistrusting of Oliver. Do you remember how long it took her to warm to Roger? She doesn't trust _any_ man. Which is understandable, don't you think?" she nudged me slightly with her elbow. "Oliver will be in her good graces in under a month. He's been trying. Did you know that?"

"He went to see her after Michael's wedding. Other than the wedding itself, that's the only time he's spoken to her." Alicia grinned as if keeping a big secret. I glared at her. "What? What has he been doing?"

"I know nothing," she laughed. "Maybe my brain is addled by wedding-mania. I don't know what I'm saying."

I glared some more. "Alicia Spinnett, tell me what my boyfriend has been doing, or so help me, I'll fall during the procession and ruin everything."

Her eyes slitted, provoked, but unmoving. "You are the devils child, Bell. You'll find out in good time. And this threat will be met by a bigger threat – it's not too late to, um, _alter_ the colour of the bridesmaid dresses."

"Touché."

"I thought so."

-break-

I was in a drunk, giddy bubble, in a bundle in Oliver's arms, and there was movement – movement which I was hating. The late hours of Saturday night and early Sunday morning had been too much for my tired body – and the volume of champagne I'd consumed was just stupid.

Oliver gripped around my ribs and thighs to keep my wiggling, teal-clad body nestled to him. His hair was a mess in the effort. I couldn't remember when we had left the beautiful reception, or where we were now. I was fairly sure we were outside.

"Are we outside?"

"_What_?" Oliver asked incredulously, half-laughing at me. Okay, I guess I wasn't as legible to him as I was to myself. "This has to be the drunkest I've ever seen you. You better be thankful that Alicia and George had left before you really let yourself go – because Alicia would have slung you up."

"Ev-er-y. One's. _Maa-rried._" I sounded it out, trying to be as clear as I could as the alcohol sloshed around in my brain. I then felt a wave of nausea. "Put me down." The movement stopped, and Oliver placed my bare feet on cold pavement. I sat down, my legs crossed like a child.

"Katie …?" His voice was confused as he stood over me.

I squinted up at him. "I'm just _tired_."

"I was _carrying _you," he said in confusion, crouching down and trying to pick me up again. I wriggled out of his grasp and fell backwards onto the pavement, Oliver thankfully saving my head before it connected with the ground. "Katie, please let me pick you up." I shook my head, so he sighed and slumped down onto the pavement with me, cradling my head in his hands on his lap. "You make me do crazy things, but I love you. And if _anyone_ walks past who recognises me, _you_ are dealing with it, Bell."

I ignored him, trying to form coherent thoughts in my head. I was sad, but I was happy. I was happy in a sad way … Maybe that was wrong. Maybe I was just sad. But happy for Alicia and George. That was confusing. Drunk overtakes most emotions and there's only usually room in someone's little head to feel one at once … usually flickering from one to the other alarmingly fast. Why was I sad? I'd seen some of my best friends get married … surrounded by our other … _married_ friends. Some with babies with them or on the way. What wasn't to be happy about? "Oliver." I looked at him, but he was upside down. I turned and clutched at him, crawling into his lap to keep the cold of my limbs that I hadn't noticed until that moment. "You think about stuff, right?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "What sort of stuff, Kates?"

"Are you drunk too?"

"Katie, what stuff?" he asked, persistent. I was agitated and didn't want to answer him. I got up … slowly … drunkenly, and toddled off. "Katie! Oi, Bell. Come _here_, woman!" He scooped me up again, and I promptly fell asleep.

-break-

I was fairly sure, when I woke up, that everything I had said last night had been a dream. But blearily opening my eyes to see an unwaveringly concerned set of eyes staring back at me, I began to doubt my suppositions.

"What _stuff_?"

"What time is it?"

"Six – and for the love of Merlin, _Katie_, what stuff?!" He brushed the hair out of my face gently, in juxtaposition to his tone. I leant towards him, noticing that he had thoughtfully undressed me and redressed me in one of his Puddlemere t-shirts. I kissed him, before apologising about alcohol morning-breath. He waved it off and kissed me again, his frustration leaking into the mark of affection. "Talk to me, Katie. Because you were crying again, and it's killing me."

I placed another light kiss on his lips and ran my fingers down his toned, naked side. "I don't know. My thoughts are pretty screwed up at the moment."

He grew more concerned. "But we're okay, right? You're happy here? With me?"

I frowned. "Don't ever doubt that. I love you. We're perfect. Beyond perfect. _You_ are perfect."

"Then what? Please, just ..."

I sighed. I knew I would have to say it. But I also knew that I absolutely couldn't – because it would ruin everything. I deliberated for a few more seconds, until I said, "I guess maybe it's because all of my friends are getting married and I feel like I won't see them as much. Especially if they all have kids soon."

He eyed me calmly. My gaze dropped to hide what I was really saying, what I didn't want to say. I knew that he knew by his silence, but I also didn't get a spontaneous proposal either. My heart dropped a little further, knowing that a conversation had to be had. "Katie, I love you. I absolutely love you, and I can't imagine that life without you would be worth living. You are my exact compliment, and I am so lucky, and so privileged to live with you and for you to be my girlfriend. You will always – _always_ – have me to depend on. We have to grow up at some point. People's lives go on. But Katie, they will never desert you entirely. You are too important to too many people. Okay?"

He didn't say what I was expecting, which was along the lines of 'You _want _to get engaged? Pfft, I'm done with all that. See you later'. His answer was more convoluted than that.

"Do you want children, Oliver?"

His lips brushed my nose, and I knew his answer. I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Now," he said, business-like. "Shall we go do something together today? Since it's my first day off in ages, and because I just want to be with you all day?"

I smirked at him. "Maybe in a few hours. I think I'm still drunk."

"More's the better. I think I could think of something to do for a few hours ..."

I rolled my eyes at him as he kissed me.

-break-

A cold wind rushed past my face, chilling red spots onto my cheeks. Sunlight was iridescent on the surface of the subsisting water, and traced the contours of the surrounding acclivity. Green and brown and purple – everywhere. The sky was pearl and blue, and rays streaked the sky in lines followed by birds. Everything was in movement and life and sun and solace.

Oliver's hand found mine, his other hand gripping the wheel of the rental car. Sun flared behind him as I looked around at him, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Him … Anyone else would have looked harsh in the bright light, highlighting every imperfection and flaw, but I saw none in him. None at all. His eyes were on fire. His hair was scintillating with every breath of air from the open windows. His mouth was set in a blissful smile as we drove winding roads of his motherland.

Another turn in the road, and another incline, and we were looking out at a body of water over the tops of trees, the afternoon sun perfecting and imperfecting against the waves. He pulled over in a lay-by close to a wood, and he got out. He opened my door and took my hand, helping me out. I stopped him as he started towards the rear of the car, kissing him – hard.

He was laughing at me by the time I relented, and kissed my forehead in reply. He retrieved a bag which I hadn't known we'd taken from the boot of the car, and he took my hand once more, silently leading me down a trail leading to the loch side. The trees thinned until a beach was laid before us. I stared, astonished. Overhanging branches of old, old trees tickled the glimmering water, their leaves and blossoms ablaze, catching from the loch, boulders jutting from the bed, the water lapping at their sides. A cacophony of birds were surrounding us, and the waves grazed the shore, but the scenery was otherwise silent, brooding slopes enclosing our own piece of paradise.

Oliver – Oliver Wood, the date genius of all history – set down the rucksack he was carrying and sat down on the smooth stone of an overhang so that his shoes brushed the water. Be beckoned me to do the same, but all I could do was stare at the perfection of the moment.

"Kates … love, come here."

"I can't believe this place."

His grinning mouth brightened a little. "This was where my dad brought us all on days out when I was a kid – and Gi was a toddler. Every sunny day, we were in that water. It was total bliss. I missed this place." I sat beside him silently as I watched him reminisce, his features gleaming in the sunlight as if he were marble. He turned to me with a smile. "I wanted to share it with you. I've never shown anyone else this place."

I leant into him, and his arms held me to him. "I'm honoured. Thank you."

He laughed a little, dropping a soft kiss onto my hair. "Don't thank me. Ever since I met you, I knew you belonged here with me."

"I think you're right," I said gently. "I can't believe this place."

We fell silent for a few minutes, just relaxing beside the lapping waves at our shoes, watching as gulls and prey-birds danced and grazed the loch as it whipped at them with the wind.

"Katie?"

I uttered a "Hmmm?" in response.

"Swim?"

I extricated myself from his arms to look at him incredulously. "Wearing _what, _exactly?" He shrugged, grinning cheekily, before he pulled off is shirt.

"I'd prefer you to wear nothing, if I'm entirely honest. But if you're feeling self-conscious, then I brought my wand to dry us off." He emptied his pockets, then took off his shoes, then mine, then picked me up bodily. I squealed, gripping to him as he leaped from the rock into freezing water.

"_Oliver, this is freaking FREEZING!_" I spluttered, trying to pull myself out of the frigid water by using my boyfriend as a climbing frame. My hair was wrapped around my face, my mascara streaking my cheeks.

"Yup," he grinned, holding me tight. He brushed the sopping hair out of my face, and whispered, "I love you."

"You are a _nightmare_, boy," I grumbled as he kissed me, him grinning the whole time.

His lips found my neck, and I felt just a smidge warmer, but my teeth still chattered. He rolled his eyes at me. "Well, you can tell _you're_ not Scottish, just from that reaction to cold," he laughed at me. His eyes danced and he wrapped my legs around his waist, beginning to walk towards the shore. He laid me down on the pebbled beach and kissed me again. "I'm liking the wet t-shirt contest garb, though. Hot," he winked, kissing my throat once more. I laughed at him as he inched my wet t-shirt up and shoved him onto the stones at my side playfully.

"Are you never satisfied?" I accused him, still laughing.

"It's not my fault you are constantly gorgeous."

"Oh, shut _up_," I said, fizzling into laughter once more. He grinned into my shoulder, gripping me to his body. "You're like a teenager."

"Well, I missed out as a teenager. I'm making up for it."

"So long as it's only with me," I accused again, mocking him.

"Damn – does that mean I have to cut it off with McGonagall and Sprout?"

"Oh Merlin, _that image_! That is now _forever_ burned into my mind's eye. _Damn_ you!" I squealed, covering my face with my hands.

"McGonagall was surprisingly tender, but so _demanding_ … Almost dominatrix!"

"Oliver!"

"And Sprout, well, what can I say? She's a _tiger._"

"_Oliver!_"

"Okay, okay," he laughed. He propped himself up on his elbow and brushed my still wet hair out of my face with his fingertips. "Only you, Kates. Only ever you."

I smirked at him. "Oh, I wouldn't want you to miss out with McGonagall and Sprout. Don't let me hold you back."

He smirked right back. "You're such a bisom."

I understood that that was a bad thing, but that he was joking. I shoved his shoulder again, and he laughed. He got up, the stones sliding from beneath his bare feet as he walked across them. He grabbed the bag he brought taking out his wand. He tapped my head with it, and felt instantly warmer and dry. I smiled up thankfully at him. He did the same to himself, leaving himself shirtless as he retrieved our things from the rock. I lay silently in the vista of Scotland, listening to my boyfriend humming something-or-other, and I loved it. Everything to do with it. I wondered for a second of whether I really had been the only one of Oliver's girlfriend to be brought here – whether Cassie had ever been here. I hoped not. I wanted this to be special to us – just us.

Oliver came to sit with me again, and he passed a glass of chilled white wine to me. I sat up and deemed him a genius. He shook his head at me, amused, sipping from his own glass. I leant against him, and he hugged me to his side, watching quietly as time passed across the loch.

-break-

_A/N:_ _You guys know the drill – constant apologies and grovelling. I promise I've been busy_. _Stupidly busy. Hopefully sweet moments between Oliver and Katie will make up for it a little. xx_


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